


Neighbor of Lust

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 00:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10148339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What should be a simple stop for a few days turns into something much, much more for Viktor, who has alittlebit of trouble grasping onto the fact that the man he flirted with at a bar the other night is a vampire.Not only that, but said vampire seems to have problems that dig deep, delving into dark secrets that are better off buried.He never asked for any of this.





	1. Neighbor of Abnormalities

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be just a one-shot, but as you can see I changed my mind halfway through writing it.
> 
> Wanna stay up-to-date with my writing? Follow me on Tumblr—@featheredkit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **ARC I: BITTERSWEET BEGINNINGS**
> 
>  
> 
> Viktor didn't know much about Yuuri Katsuki—and that was saying a lot, considering he'd only just met him—but he knew instantly that there was something...off about him.

The first time Viktor met him was at a bar somewhere in Hasetsu—a small town in Kyushu, Japan. Though he was from Russia, he was one to do a lot of traveling in regards to his career, along with a little bit of this and a little bit of that in the background with Christophe, who was more than excited to try every alcoholic beverage possibly known to man.

Viktor was, as one would put it, not as excited. But he also wasn’t one to argue with his best friend, so he played along over and over again.

His relationship with Chris had started out as no more than a professional one—between a model and a photographer. However, over time, Viktor had come to notice Chris’s humour and his own little way of being charming, which in turn lead to their becoming friends; and, as even more time went on, he insisted on only wanting Chris to photograph him. His manager had been reluctant to it at first, but he accepted...eventually.

And then came the traveling. Viktor quickly found himself going to places all over—China, America, France, Britain, and other places he couldn’t quite pronounce the names of.

At first it had been exciting, the prospect of going and seeing brand new places he’d never been; but the excitement tired as fast as it had come and was replaced with a great feeling of being overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed because, every once in awhile, he would wish for a break, a chance to go back home to Russia, if not only for a few days.

These requests were always denied.

But of course they were; he was _rich_ and _famous._ When did he ever get what he wanted?

He soon picked up on the hint and quit asking, quit wishing.

After a photoshoot in a remote area located in Australia, the word came in he was headed to Hasetsu next—and he sighed inwardly at the thought. More of the same thing, he knew. More of the same old routine, the single difference being that said routine was being done in another country.

Wonderful.

Once the plane had landed he was immediately brought to his hotel room, and it wasn’t until he was settled that there had been a knock on his door, which he answered, knowing prior to answering it who it was on the other side.

“Hey, Viktor!” Chris had said, already looking ready to go, his lucky camera hanging from the lanyard on his neck. “So one of the editors was talking to me about this bar that’s downtown, and I figured I should go there and try to pick up on some Japanese chicks, you know? Wanna come along?”

Chris was incredibly predictable, he always had been. But Viktor knew going with him would be better than rotting away in his hotel room, so he had reluctantly agreed to tag along; only if Chris swore not to get _too_ drunk while they were out, which was responded to with, “I will make no such promises.”

Prior to the events of the night, Viktor had no idea that agreeing to this and heading out to that damned bar had led up his meeting _him._

At the bar, it was loud, it was crazy and, most importantly, it was filled with drunk or to-be drunk people, one of the to-be’s probably being Chris, who was leaving him alone once they arrived and rushing up to the first woman he saw.

Rolling his eyes, Viktor sat down in a stool in front of the counter, almost immediately being encountered by the bartender, who was expertly cleaning a glass with a white cloth.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

“Vodka,” Viktor replied, resting the side of his face on his hand once the bartender moved on to the next patron. He wasn’t a heavy drinker like Chris was, but a drink here and there wasn’t too bad. Besides, he _deserved_ some self-indulgence right now. He’d been working his ass off, and with little to no reward for it.

His drink had just been placed in front of him when someone moved to sit down in the stool next to him, so fast and stealthful that he hadn’t even noticed someone was there until he heard a voice, speaking directly at him in Japanese.

Viktor nearly jumped, his grip tightening on his drink, so close to taking the first sip. He swiveled around and faced the person that had addressed him so suddenly.

The man was definitely a looker—a few years younger than he was, maybe, but around his age regardless. His black hair was slicked back to almost perfect neatness, with a strand sticking out and protesting here and there. He wore glasses over his brown eyes, brown eyes that seemed to change shade in the light.

Viktor shook his head—he didn't speak Japanese.

Those eyes were a deep chestnut when the stranger spoke again, this time in English, a language Viktor _did_ understand. “Sorry, I scared you, didn’t I? My bad. That happens sometimes.” He offered a smile, one so small and weak that Viktor knew immediately there was something wrong with him. “My name is Yuuri, by the way. Yuuri Katsuki. What about you?”

Viktor hadn’t noticed until then that his own mouth was hanging open. He closed it and swallowed, knowing he looked like an idiot and almost wanting to apologize, too, but this man—Yuuri, he said his name was—didn’t seem to mind.

But still, for some reason he felt at a loss for words; and the reason why this was was way beyond his comprehension.

All he could manage to say was, “You don’t recognize me?”

He regretted his words as soon as they had left his lips. What an arrogant thing to say. He may be famous, but he wasn’t full of himself like most of the others were.

Yuuri listed his head to one side. His eyes were now a shade of chocolate as he examined him, pressing his index finger to his lips as he scrutinized him. And it stayed like that for a while before he was lowering his finger and bringing his head upright, shaking it. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think I do. But that might just be because I didn’t get much sleep this morning.” He turned his face away, seeming rather upset that he couldn’t get the recognition.

 _This morning?_ Now Viktor was confused. What did he mean by _this morning?_ It was technically morning now, so was _that_ what he meant? That he hadn’t gotten any sleep yet?

“Oh, it’s quite fine. It’s my bad, really,” Viktor said after a moment, shaking the thought away. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. Yuuri’s sleep schedule was none of his business. “My name is Viktor Nikiforov. I’m a well-known model, so I figured you might have recognized me. I actually think it’s nice that you don’t.” And he meant it. It felt nice not being smothered for once.

Yuuri turned to face him. His expression was relieved. “That explains it, then,” he said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I don’t pay that much attention to modern culture stuff, so I wouldn’t really know.”

“Modern culture stuff?” Viktor question, giving him an odd look.

“O-oh! N-no, I didn’t mean…” Yuuri trailed off. His face screamed mortification, and he held out his hands in defense. “Pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry, never mind.” Probably in an attempt to shift the conversation, he waved the bartender over and asked for a drink.

Viktor took a sip of his own drink subconsciously, almost forgetting he'd had it in the first place.

Yuuri leaned forward and rested his face in one hand, still seeming to be a bit frazzled. His eyes widened, but only for a fraction of a second, because he must have remembered he wasn't the only one there.

“Sorry,” he muttered yet again, and Viktor had to choke back an ironic laugh. They'd barely been talking for five minutes and it felt as if that word was all he was capable of saying. “I've been having an off day.”

“Haven’t we all?” Viktor raised one of his brows. “Do you want to talk about it?” He wasn't very tactful, but he could always _try_ to be supportive, right?

He couldn't just sit back and allow someone to be so...stressed.

“No, no, it's alright.” Yuuri removed his hand from his face and straightened in his stool, the action graceful and fluent, practiced. It looked almost stunning in the light. “You wouldn't understand.”

“What wouldn't I understand?”

Yuuri didn't respond to his inquiry; his eyes were distant, looking ahead but not focused on any single thing in particular. He was awfully pale, Viktor realized, and this made him almost tempted to grab him by the arm and take him outside so he could hail a cab.

But, the thing was, Yuuri definitely wasn't drunk. Viktor couldn't smell alcohol on him—the drink that Yuuri had requested not moments before was quite possibly his first of the night.

“Are you sure you're fine?”

Yuuri seemed to be snapped out of a trance. He glanced at Viktor and smiled, the same sad smile he'd given Viktor before, like he knew something that Viktor didn't. And he did. “Yes, I'm sure.”

And Viktor would have questioned further—maybe ask Yuuri if he was feeling sick or something along those lines—but was cut off just short of speaking by Yuuri's drink being placed down in front of him by the bartender. Yuuri turned the smile to him and gave a thanks.

After he'd taken his first sip, which had consisted of downing nearly half the glass, Yuuri returned his attention to Viktor. “So, you told me you were a model, right?” Viktor nodded. “What is it exactly that you do?”

Viktor made small talk about Chris being his best friend and photographer and traveling around, including the shoot he was supposed to be doing here in Hasetsu, craftily choosing to leave out the bits involving his doubts and homesickness. Yuuri listened intently the entire time, only to pipe up every once in awhile to ask a few questions here and there.

Viktor didn't realize how much time had passed in their talking until he noticed he was very well past his first glass of vodka. Mentally cursing himself, he pushed his half-downed glass to the side and muttered some nonsense under his breath.

So much for being sober for Chris's sake. (But that was relatively speaking, because the word ‘sober' could mean lot of different things.)

“What's wrong?” Yuuri asked, sensing his frustration. He reached out, his fingers brushing Viktor's shoulder lightly, carefully, sending shivers throughout his entire being.

“I didn't mean to drink quite so much,” he breathed after a bit of considering his response, followed by a little laugh. He wasn't completely drunk, he knew, a little bit tipsy, mayhaps. He wasn't a lightweight.

“I know how that feels.” Yuuri smiled and gestured to his own glass. He'd likely had a bit to drink as well.

His smile grew into a grin, and he leaned forward, his elbows rested on the table.

“Don't tell me you've had more than you can handle.”

Viktor scoffed. Both in amusement at the mere _idea_ of being smashed after only this and the fact Yuuri seemed to be a little less shy with a drink or two with him. _Liquid courage, huh._ “Don't be ridiculous. I'm doing _great._ What about you, though? How are you holding up?”

Yuuri shrugged. “As well I can be, I guess. I don't usually drink alcohol.”

“Then what would make you want to come here tonight?” Viktor questioned. His muscles tensed at the amount of closeness between him and Yuuri, before relaxing. He didn't think he minded it too much.

“It's...satisfying enough,” Yuuri said under his breath, so low Viktor almost missed it, and he reached out and began to twirl a piece of Viktor's long hair, his eyes half-lidded and his lashes looking long and beautiful. “I'll last until sometime tomorrow afternoon, tops.”

What did _that_ mean? _It’s...satisfying enough._ What would need to be satisfied?

Yuuri was strange.

Viktor laughed in spite of himself, the sound soft and low and happy. Yuuri hummed in response and released the lock of hair, pulling away and sitting back in his stool with a smug, knowing expression and an unrecognizable gleam in his eyes.

“I hope you're not looking to sleep with me tonight,” he teased, his voice low so no one else could hear. “I don't know how well you'd be able to cope with a one-night stand.”

Viktor pursed his lips. “Why would it need to be a one-night stand? I promise I'm not a bad guy.”

“Oh, no, I'm sure you're very kind, but…” Finally, the shy Yuuri made himself known, and he trailed off halfway through his statement. “Two things, actually. The first thing being that”—and with that the return of confidence, Yuuri smirking again—“you couldn't handle me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Viktor asked, his volume just barely above a whisper. He was sitting down, but his knees felt weak. “And what about the second thing?”

Yuuri was quiet a long moment.

Then, “I'm sure you wouldn't want to be with me.”

And that was it—all of Viktor's playfulness and drunken flirtations fell away along with his smile, which was quickly replaced with a confused frown. He furrowed his brows and searched for some kind of affirmation of a joke in Yuuri’s face, only to not be able to find one. Yuuri's expression was just as serious as his was, if not regretful on top of that.

He listed his head to one side. “Where did that come from?” he mused. “You say that as if I'm in love with you.”

Yuuri shook his head and turned away, his eyes a dark, dark brown. Almost seeming to look black, but that had to have been the light. The damn light.

"No, but you would be, given time,” he whispered, and he swallowed. He ordered another drink, and while the bartender was there Viktor decided to get another of his own, as well.

A few more drinks and hopefully the air would be less tense. He didn't like how tense it was.

And, to prove him right, Yuuri was already changing the conversation when they had both finished their next round.

“You know,” he said, “you never did ask me what I do for a living.”

“Alright,” Viktor said. He was still a little weary from...whatever it was that had happened there, but he was trying to ignore it, that churning in his gut deep down there. “What do _you_ do for a living?”

Yuuri took a sip of his drink—some concoction Viktor didn't think he'd seen before. Maybe he'd have to get Chris to try it; but that was taking into insinuation that Chris _hadn't_ tried it already, which he was sure he had. “I'm not telling.”

“Now, what was the point of making me ask you, then?”

Yuuri hummed. “I don't know. The fact that I won't answer sure does make you curious, though, doesn't it?”

Viktor folded his hands together around his glass reflexively, tightening and then releasing. Tightening. Releasing. Tightening. Releasing. At first he wasn't sure how he was supposed to reply, and it wasn't until he noticed Yuuri giving him an odd look that he realized that he'd been quiet for an abnormally long time.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose it _does_ make me curious.” As did a lot of other things Yuuri had said since he'd met him a few hours ago, but he left that part out.

“How long are you staying on Hasetsu for, anyway?” Yuuri asked him, reaching out for a stray strand of hair before running his hand down Viktor's face and letting it fall away completely, causing the Russian man to shiver involuntarily. “A few days, maybe?”

“Yeah, a week at most,” Viktor replied, wanting to return the affectionate touches in some way. Putting his glass down, he reached out and settled on cupping one side of Yuuri's face—for no more than a brief moment, but in that brief moment Yuuri gave him a sweet smile and leaned into the touch.

Actually, Viktor wasn't sure he'd been so flirty and affectionate with someone he'd met at a bar before. Not ever. He'd just never been interested in that kind of thing before tonight, he supposed.

 _Oh, goodness._ A revelation hit him like a punch to the stomach. _Am I becoming Chris?_

He grinned to himself and pushed the thought to the side. _No, ridiculous._ Today was simply an exception, that was all. And the _reason_ why it was an exception, well, he would try to come up with that later.

It was almost as if Yuuri could read his thoughts, because he was saying, “Is this a little new for you?”

Viktor nodded and offered a weak shrug. Noticing his hand was still on Yuuri's face, he pulled it away and rested it next to his glass. “Yeah. What about you?” he decided to ask, recalling upon how nervous Yuuri had been prior to the both of them drinking.

“Same here.” Yuuri watched his hand as it left, as it landed near the glass, and he added, “Do you want another round? I'll pay.”

Viktor opened his mouth, ready to accept the offer (only difference being that _he_ would be the one to pay for all of this, considering he had the money to do so), but he was stopped by a hand falling on his shoulder from behind, and he swiveled around in his stool to face whomever was suddenly invading his personal space.

To no surprise, it was Chris, drunk as ever. His eyes were half-lidded and there was a smug look on his face, one corner of his lips turned up in the makings of a wide grin.

“What are you up to here?” he asked, putting himself between Viktor and Yuuri, his hands placed palms down on the counter. He turned to Yuuri, who was staring at him with a slight frown. “Viktor, who's this? A new friend of yours? He's awfully pale.”

So Viktor _hadn't_ just been imagining that. Yuuri turned his face away.

Chris didn't notice how uncomfortable Yuuri was, because he glanced back at Viktor. “Anyway, we better go before things get crazy in here.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I might have hit on _one_ girl.” He paused, reconsidering his words. “Or two. Or three. All within a five minute span. And all of them may or may _not_ have noticed.” Viktor's glared at him, and he raised his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Hey, no rules when you're drunk, right? Except no driving. But, seriously, let's catch a cab and hightail it out of here.”

Before Viktor could utter a single word in reply Chris was rushing out and going out the door, close to being too fast for his mind to fully register.

He rolled his eyes. _This guy,_ he thought, _is going to be the death of me._ Then he cleared his throat. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Yuuri,” he said, and turned in his seat to face the Japanese man…

...only to see he was gone, the seat he had been in empty.

 _Could he possibly have gone so quickly?_ Viktor raised his head and tried to search around for him with his eyes, not meeting the face he wanted. Knowing Chris was waiting for him, he sighed and gave up, getting out of his own seat and brushing off his coat and getting ready to leave.

He called the bartender over to pay.

“What? No, your friend already paid for it all.”

 _What?_ Viktor could only nod, though he felt awfully confused. Was he losing his mind? How long had he been talking to Chris for?

As he pushed open the doors to leave, he glanced over his shoulder to see if Yuuri was there one more time.

Of course, he wasn't, but one couldn't be too careful.


	2. Neighbor of the Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri was at his photo shoot, and he had no idea why.

Sleep was surprisingly easy to come by that night. Viktor was out as soon as he had hit his mattress, which so suddenly felt like a soft cloud underneath him, wrapping around him and engulfing him and whispering promises of never letting go. He had tied his hair up prior to laying down, so it swept off to the side he slept on, adding to the comfort of the pillow.

He had dreams that night, of course, which entitled him reliving the events of when he had met Yuuri on the bar, and each time things seemed to grow much more vivid, replaying over and over again like an old film strip. And somehow, in these dreams, he thought, deep in the crevices of his mind, _You should ask him what’s wrong, you should ask him what’s wrong._

Because he _had_ been thinking to ask such a thing at the bar—after all, Yuuri had seemed so... _upset._ About something. And leaving him alone in such a sad state felt like such a wrong thing to do. Just recalling upon it made Viktor upset, because he hadn’t at least tried to do anything about it. Did something like that make him a terrible person? He didn’t think so; but that didn’t stop him from feeling like it did.

He was woken up from his deep slumber by light seeping in through his hotel room’s window, and he groaned, rolling over onto his other side and pulling his blanket over his head. He stayed that way for a few moments before he remembered where he was and why he was there, then he sat up and stretched his arms over his head in an arch.

 _Right._ He had his photo shoot today. Then, he two days, he was supposed to go to some type of interview. And after that, well...His manager hadn’t yet announced when he would be leaving Hasetsu yet, so he honestly had no idea.

He didn’t think he minded. It was actually really nice here. Besides, some part of him, deep down inside, wanted to see Yuuri again. Maybe get a better opportunity to talk to him, become friends with him…

 _Wait, no._ He shook his head quickly, banishing the pleasant thoughts, and lowered his arms down onto his lap. His squeezed the soft fabric of his pajama pants, gathering the threads between his fingers, in his nails. _I doubt I’m going to stay here for long. What would be the point?_ He wasn’t good with long-distance; even his own _family_ he didn’t talk to much anymore.

He sighed out, the sound low and soft and sad. He knew little to nothing about Yuuri or what was the matter with him, but he hoped, wherever he was, he was at least trying to feel a little better. Drinking wasn’t necessarily the best way to be rid of one’s problems, after all.

Forcing himself out of bed, Viktor gathered some clothes for the day—clothes he was sure one of his crew was going to make him change out of in preference for something “better”—along with a towel so he could take a quick shower before he was to leave.

Slipping into the bathroom, he placed his choice of clothes and towel to the side so he could strip. Once he was done, he turned on the faucet, cold water first. He placed his hand under the running water to get a feel for it, adjusting the knobs until the temperature of the water was one he was comfortable with—a little more than warm, but not hot, either. He stepped inside, closing the curtain once he was in.

He simply stood under the water for a moment, his face turned away from the showerhead, eyes closed blissfully, enjoying the feel of it running down his back, down further and further…

He reached for the shampoo and poured some into his hand before putting the bottle down so he could lather into his hair, breathing heavily through his nose as he thought.

Honestly, Viktor hadn’t been expecting to befriend someone at the bar, and especially not someone quite so much like...Yuuri. He didn’t know what it was about the Japanese man that had Viktor so intrigued. Was it how pale he was, as he had noticed and Chris pointed out? Was it how mysterious he had acted? Was it...was it...something else entirely? He really had no idea, and it was this _not_ knowing that had him shivering.

He washed the shampoo out of his hair and started to apply the conditioner. These hotel-provided products weren’t as good as the one that he typically used, and he almost felt bad for not asking Mila or Isabella (his make-up artists, who seemed to know his own style better than even _he_ did) for some when they’d arrived. He’d just have to ask them during his photo shoot later.

After he was done rinsing out the shampoo, running his fingers through his silver locks a few times to make sure it was soft enough for his liking, he grabbed the white bar of soap, also provided, and began to lather it onto his skin. His skin was sensitive; he hoped he wouldn’t wind up getting rashes or anything later. But he only brushed the thought to the side. What a spoiled way to think.

He had just been out of the shower, in his new clothes and brushing his hair to the point of perfection, when his phone rang. It was resting on a console on his bedside dresser and he picked it up. _Chris._ He answered it.

“You awake?” Chris asked. “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“Yes,” Viktor replied, skillfully pressing the phone to ear with his shoulder as he continued to brush, the strokes light and practiced, as he didn’t want to wind up pulling out some of his hair at encountering a knot. “I just got out of the shower.”

“Good. I hope you’re wearing something nice and pretty.” Viktor rolled his eyes at the statement. “Anyway, I’m gonna get dressed now. Meet me down in the lobby and we can gather and head out.” And, before Viktor could say so much as respond to the demand, Chris hung up the line.

Viktor put his phone in sleep and placed it in one of his pockets. He fixed his bed so it would be ready when he got back that evening, then headed out, pocketing his keys as well and locking the room’s door on his way out.

He waited in the lobby for a good five minutes, sitting on the large sofa that inhabited it and sipping a cup of coffee before Chris arrived, lucky camera around his neck, and plopped down next to him.

“Do you think we could go back to that bar after we’re done with the shoot?” he asked, a smirk on his lips.

Viktor pressed his own lips into a thin line and stared down at his coffee. Subconsciously, his fingers tightened around the cup. Some part of him wanted to say yes in hopes that Yuuri _might_ be there again, but he doubted it.

So all he said was, “We’ll see.”

Chris didn’t say anything else, only humming in response. He spread out his arms out on either side of himself, as if he had two ladies at his sides, and leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Viktor let out a breath through his nose and leaned forward slightly, taking another sip of his coffee. For a long moment it was silent, the only sound existing being the drone of the television, a weather report. It was supposed to be nice this weekend.

Finally, Viktor broke the silence. “Where are we going?”

Chris responded without moving, his eyes still closed. “There’s a beach here. I suggested that we go there because you’d look really majestic in the pictures, you know.” Then he leaned forward as well, his eyes open now, and he gestured wildly with his arms as he continued. “Just imagine it; the sun behind you, making you look godlike as the seagulls fly in the background, the sand and the ocean in the background…” He smiled. “Beautiful.”

“Spoken like a true photographer,” Viktor replied, and he meant it. Things like this were the reason he had chosen Chris to be his personal photographer. “What are we riding there in?”

“Questions, questions, questions. You’re full of those today, huh?” Chris said, though there was no real malice in his voice. “If you must know, we’re going there in a car. The rest of the crew’s already at the location, but Mila managed to rent us one while we’re here. I think she said I’m driving, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I might still be a little drunk from last night.”

“I’ll drive, then,” Viktor offered.

“No way. You drank last night, too, remember?” Chris’s smile morphed into a grin, and he folded his hands together on his lap. “Make Isabella drive. She won’t mind, she says driving soothes her.”

“So it's really just the four of us in the car, then? Why would the others head out so early?”

Chris nodded. “Just us four screwballs. And I figured it would be better to let you sleep in. You know, so you don’t look so freaking tired in the pictures. I’m pretty sure we’re all still on Australian time.”

Viktor appreciated that; he didn’t want to be involved in the clammer of a whole lot of people in the van, anyway. Besides, he was here with all his favorite crew members. It was all he really needed.

“Hey, you two ready to go?”

Viktor and Chris both turned at once. Mila and Isabella stood a few feet away from them. Mila walked forward first, her hands on her hips. “So who’s driving?”

“Yang,” Chris replied as he got to his feet. Viktor did the same. “Because me and Viktor had too much at a bar last night and you shouldn’t trust us behind a wheel.”

Isabella laughed. “Figures,” she said. Her gaze fell on Viktor. “Either I’m going crazy or Christophe here is starting to rub off on you.”

They all laughed.

* * *

 

The drive to the beach had been relatively quiet. Isabella was at the wheel and Viktor sat in the passenger seat, Makkachin rested in his lap. (Pets of any kind were banned from the hotel, so the poodle had to stay at a different location, via a friend of Viktor's manager's.) It was a bit tight, as she was a bit big, but Viktor was comfortable enough knowing he was close to his best friend again.

Chris and Mila were sitting on opposing sides in the back, and sometime during the drive Chris leaned forward and placed one hand on the back of Viktor's seat as he spoke in a whisper. “The beach here is really nice, you know. It'll feel just like you're back in St. Petersburg.”

“No it won't,” Mila said, overhearing what he'd said. When Viktor turned his head to the side to look at them, he saw she had her arms crossed over her chest. She gave him a sympathetic smile, her eyes flashing. “Don’t listen to Christophe. He's trying to get your hopes up for nothing.”

“I'm only trying to _help,”_ Chris returned, moving to sit back in his previous position. His hand fell from Viktor's sear. “Hey, maybe you'll actually get to go back home after we're done here. After all, when was the last time you were there?”

“Eight months ago,” Viktor said in reply, facing his front once again. Makkachin must have sensed his sadness, because she licked his face. He pat her head in return, appreciating the bit of caring. “It doesn't even matter. If we did go back, it would only be for a day or two, anyway; then I'd be on a plane out of there.”

“Well, I for one think that kind of thing is unacceptable.” Isabella's tight on the steering wheel tightened slightly. “If you need to be back home, you need to be back home. If _I_ was your manager, you would be getting constant visits to St. Petersburg. And I mean _constant.”_ She frowned. “I can't imagine what it would feel like to constantly be apart from the ones you love.”

Viktor knew Isabella well enough to figure she was most likely thinking of JJ, her finance, right now, imagining what it would be like to be apart from him. The reason they'd even met had been because of Viktor, because JJ was the editor for one of the magazines Viktor had been getting shot for about a year back, and they'd gotten together almost instantly; they didn't see each other all the time, of course, due to the traveling, but Viktor couldn't help but wonder how often they talked to each other.

It _had_ to be more than he talked to his own family. Especially considering they were going to get married in the summer. They had a lot of planning to do.

“Either way,” said Mila, and Viktor drew his attention to her, “it doesn't matter what _we_ think. This is about what Viktor's manager wants, and what he says goes.” Then she shook her head. “Don't you wonder, Viktor, what it would have been like if you hadn't gotten discovered?”

Of course he did. All the time, in fact. But he usually preferred to push _those_ ideas to the deepest, darkest parts of his mind, never to be thought of again. Life wasn't about _what ifs_ and _what could have been._ What was done was done, and now he had to deal with the results of it.

“No,” he lied, and that was it. Nobody said anything in response.

“Anyway,” Mila piped up after an awkward moment of quiet. “Isabella, how's the wedding planning going?”

Isabella's face brightened and she and Mila easily transitioned into talk of the future wedding, about the cake and the reception and where they were planning to go on their honeymoon. Chris joined in the conversation, as well, managing to not make anything too uncomfortable with certain comments of his, and Viktor too spoke up every once in awhile, usually only when he was addressed directly. For the most part, though, he was quite, his head leaned against the window as everyone else's words went right out his other ear.

He hadn't noticed that they made it to their location until Chris's door was opening, then Mila and Isabella's, and Isabella was nudging his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and he turned to face her.

“Morning, sleepy head,” she said, giving him a quick wink. “Come on, let's go.”

Viktor nodded and opened his own door to head out. Makkachin immediately hopped out of his lap and outside, probably because she was feeling just as cramped in the car as he was. She waited for him to get out, too, her tongue lolling and eyes wide.

Viktor got out and closed his door, taking a deep breath and embracing the sea air. Chris hadn't been entirely wrong when he'd said it would feel like he was back home. Of course, it wasn't _exactly_ the same, for obvious reasons, but if he closed his eyes and simply thought hard enough…

No. He opened his eyes and placed his hand on the base of Makkachin's neck gently. Now wasn't the time to pretend. He headed for the beach, where the crew was already set up, cameras in place and people walking around, leaving footprints in the sand as they talked to each other and relayed instructions to one another.

It almost felt odd not seeing all the indoor gear, like the blinding amount of lights (though they did still have some things for lighting here) and green screens. But he thought he liked it this way better. They barely did a shoot outdoors anymore. This was so much more authentic, real.

Makkachin seemed just as excited as he was, because she peeled away from him and ran around all the crew members in circles, barking excitedly. Viktor simply watched her for a moment, but then Chris was calling him over and telling him it was time to start, so he called her over and they got into the spot instructed by one of the producers.

Chris was already standing behind one of the larger cameras, doing some last-minute fiddling with it; and, once he was done, he looked up at Viktor, his eyes focused. “Okay, so,” he began, “I'm going to need you to move over to your right a bit”—he paused as Viktor complied, nodding—“and just sit down in the sand there—yeah, like that—and put Makkachin in your lap. _Perfect,”_ he said at last, and make some gesture at another one of the cameramen.

“I don't think his makeup is right,” Isabella said, and before Chris could protest she was walking up to Viktor, blocking him from the cameras. Leaning down, she pulled a compact from her pocket and began to dab some blush on his cheeks. “Sorry, Viktor, but I need your cheeks to glow. It'll look much better that way, don't you think?”

Viktor smiled. “Absolutely,” he agreed, and wiped his shirt. The girls _did_ have him change his clothes before they left the hotel, but what surprised him about what he had to change into was how simple (and comfortable) it was. If he was being honest, he hasn't been expecting top wear a jinbei, but he wasn't complaining.

The one he was currently wearing fell slightly off one shoulder, exposing part of his chest, and when he'd tried to fix it and pull it up Mila had simply shook her head and told him it was all a part of his appeal.

It didn't take a genius to take a guess at what type of appeal that was.

“All done,” Isabella said, and she stepped to the side, nodding at Mila, who gave them a thumbs up. “Yeah, we're good here,” she reiterated, and moved to her spot behind the cameras. Makkachin barked in farewell, though she was only really moving a few feet away.

Chris and the cameramen managed to get a few shots, just with Viktor sitting there with Makkachin in his lap. Then Chris clasped his hands together and nodded. “Alright, good. Now let's try something else…” He moved the camera, but only a little, getting a new angle. “Move to your left, and get on your knees. Have Makkachin on your right side. Make her stand so you're basically the same height. _Good._ Now smile big, hold still.”

Seeing Chris's professional attitude was amusing and comforting all at once. At least, knowing he was capable of being serious every once in a while, there was no chance of him getting fired. Viktor didn't want anyone else to take his job.

Viktor smiled big as asked, staring right into the camera, and as the first photo was shot Makkachin stiffened a bit at his side. He glanced at her, and when he did he noticed she was staring off to the far side of the beach. Subconsciously, he did, too, wanting to see what was getting her worked up.

There, in the distance, there seemed to be the figure of a person—thin, tall, silhouetted by the sun rising in the east. It looked stunning, and for a second Viktor wondered why the cameras weren't on that person instead of him.

“Hey, _Viktor.”_

He snapped back to attention. Chris gave him a shaky grin. “You doing okay there, pal? Is something wrong?”

“There's a person there,” Viktor replied, raising one arm and pointing in the direction he'd just been staring. The whole crew turned to see what he was talking about, and he did, too.

There was no one there.

Makkachin whimpered, expressing what he felt in that moment. Confusion in its purest form.

“Vitya,” Mila said, “are you sure you're alright? We could take a break for a minute, if that's what you want.”

“There's some water in the van,” one of the cameramen added.

Chris nodded and waved at the others, signaling a break. “Yeah, that sounds good. It's early in the morning. I think we all need a bit of a rest.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Viktor patted Makkachin's head. He knew he couldn't have been imagining that, not if she saw it. She wouldn't just lock up for no reason. “I'm fine. We can keep going. Besides, the sooner we're done here, the sooner we get to leave.”

Not that he wanted to leave—after this, he wanted to take some time to go and find that mystery person, the one that had slipped away so fast, so easily. It reminded him of someone else he knew, but for some reason he just couldn't seem to place the person. _Maybe I_ am _losing my mind a little,_ he thought.

“...Okay,” Chris said after a moment's hesitation, still looking a bit puzzled. Viktor knew how _that_ felt. “But it you start to feel lightheaded or anything, don't be afraid to say something. We don't need everyone's favorite model falling flat on his face. That's bad for business.”

The rest of the shoot went as normal—at least, up until the moment Makkachin had started barking. She was glaring back in the direction they had been looking before.

Viktor wrapped his arms around her in a hug. He didn't need to look to see the person was back. “She might need some sleep,” was what he said, though, not wanting to worry anyone any further.

“Yeah, that's fair. We got enough to pass, anyway. We'll send these off to the publisher when we get back to the hotel.” Chris stepped away from his camera and began to help some of the others.

Viktor noticed that Isabella and Mila were still watching him. “I'll take a walk with her, calm her down,” he told them. “Being here is probably making her homesick, is all.”

Reluctantly, they left him to his own devices, and he stood. “Come on, let's go see what's there,” he said, though when he looked over he saw the figure was gone once again. A walk would be good to help with his legs, anyway.

Makkachin barked in agreement, and they headed off.

When they got to the rocks on the far side of the beach, Viktor did glanced back to see how far they were from the rest of the crew; they were small in the distance.

“Come on,” he said, “let's head back.”

But Makkachin leaned down onto her belly and began to growl, a characteristic that was so unlike her it was terrifying. Viktor leaned down so he could coax her to calm down again.

“I like your dog.”

Viktor's head flew up. His eyes widened.

“Hi, Yuuri,” he said, carefully. What was Yuuri doing here? Was he the silhouette of the person he'd seen before?

It had to be. Who else could it have been?

“Sorry if I scared you. This is the second time, isn't it?” Yuuri laughed. “I just thought I saw you and…I don't know. I guess I wanted to see if it was really you. I like your dog,” he said quickly, and patted Makkachin's head. She leaned into the touch, her growl subsiding.

“You seem exhausted,” Viktor said. There were bags under his eyes.

“I'm fine. I don't usually come out during this time of day, is all. I should be sleeping.” Yuuri pulled away from Makkachin, brushing sand off his shirt. His gaze was distant then, and before Viktor could ask what was wrong, he said, “You should get back to your crew. They'll be wondering where you are.”

“Right,” Viktor said after some hesitation, and he turned to leave, Makkachin following suit. And, once he was a few steps away, he added, “By the way, it was nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Viktor,” Yuuri whispered. “You as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little more about Yuuri next chapter. Stay tuned!


	3. Neighbor of Rainy Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor wasn't entirely sure what to make of Yuuri anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens (sort of).

When Viktor turned around to see if Yuuri was still there, he was gone, seeming to have magically disappeared—or, rather, it was like Yuuri had never even been there at all, as if Viktor had been imagining the entire interaction.

He shivered at the thought despite knowing that couldn’t have been true. Once again, he reminded himself, if it hadn’t been real then Makkachin wouldn’t have seen Yuuri, too. But, with that revelation that it was, in fact, real, it raised more than a few questions for Viktor, who rubbed at his temple as his mind tried to sort this out.

How could Yuuri have known he was here? Did he know beforehand, or was it some kind of crazy coincidence? Had he noticed Viktor there while strolling around town and simply come to get a closer look? Or had he seen Viktor somewhere else around town, spotted him through the window of the car on the way to the beach or something else, and decided to follow to see him?

Viktor found himself cringing a bit, suddenly wishing he had asked—but he also didn’t think he would have gotten an answer to an inquiry like that. Yuuri had seemed to be in a rush, needed to leave as soon as possible. And Viktor wondered on that, as well, but brushed it aside when Makkachin pressed into his side, sensing his distress. Her large eyes met his, and he sighed and leaned down to scratch behind one of her ears.

_ What Yuuri does in his personal life is none of my business,  _ he reminded himself as he and Yuuri picked up their walk back to the crew,  _ but I can’t help but feel like I should have asked him what was wrong. He looked really upset. _

Chris ran up to him first, when he and Makkachin were only a few feet away, Mila trailing close behind. “Viktor,” he said, panting. Obviously the run had taken some energy out of him. He placed his hands on his knees and lowered his head, trying to catch his breath. Mila rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, his head popping back up. He stood up and straightened, his shoulders squaring. “Did you manage to calm Makkachin down? Is she alright?”

Viktor nodded. “Yeah, she’s fine. She must have been imagining whatever it was she saw, like I did.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing very well it wasn’t true, but there was no use arguing his case. He didn’t need anyone to think he was crazy. “What about you guys? How are you doing over here?” he asked after a minute’s pause in an attempt to shift the conversation.

“We pretty much got everything into the van while you were gone,” Chris replied, gesturing to the rest of the crew, folding up one or two more pieces of equipment to put inside. “After we’re done here, I’m thinking lunch. How good do you wanna bet some of the Japanese restaurants around here are?” Then, without another word, he turned on his heels and ran over to help the others.

Viktor noticed Mila still staring at him and gave her a hesitant smile. She didn’t return it.

Not giving him a chance to speak, she leaned a little closer and whispered, “I saw you talking to someone.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “You did?” There was no use in denying it; if she knew, she knew, and that was final.

Mila nodded and took a step backwards in order to give him some space. “I’m not an idiot, Vitya. There was another person with you over there, by the rocks.” She dropped her voice even lower, if that was possible. “Was it the same person you saw before? The one that no one else saw?”

“Yes.”

Mila listed her head to one side, her expression contorting into one of puzzlement. “That’s odd,” she said after some thought, running one hand along the side of her face. “How is it possible that a person could be somewhere, disappear only a second later, then suddenly reappear?” Viktor didn’t respond. “Who was it, anyway?” she asked him.

“Someone I met when I went to the bar with Chris last night. He must have seen me when we were shooting. When I walked over we exchanged a few words before I decided to walk back.”

“Someone you met at a  _ bar?”  _ Mila echoed. She listed her head to one side. “How much did you have to drink, exactly?”

“Not much,” Viktor said, “and, in my defense, he talked to me first. We flirted a bit, that's all. Honestly,” he insisted, when Mila's skepticism didn't cease, one of her brows raised. “What's the big deal, anyway? He's not even a fan. It isn't like he's been following me around to get a few extra autographs or anything.”

“It's just…Doesn’t something about this guy seem a little”—Mila rolled one of her hands, searching for the right word— _ “odd  _ to you? I mean, I know nothing about him, so I can't jump to any conclusions, but I'm absolutely certain the average human comes and goes quite as quickly as he did. And it's weird, isn't it? What are the odds that you would be able to see him a second time?”

Viktor knew she had a point.  _ Several  _ points, actually. There really  _ was  _ something off about Yuuri, two of those many things being exactly what Mila had stated. Not to mention how pale he was, but he was sure the reason she hadn't pointed  _ that  _ out was because she had been too far away from them to take notice of that.

She sighed. “The sooner we leave, the better,” she said, and crossed her arms over her chest, breaking away from the conversation to go talk to Isabella, who was separated from the rest of the crew talking to someone on the phone—her fiancé, probably.

Viktor took a few seconds to shake off his nerves before he headed over to Chris. “When are we leaving?” he asked, suddenly feeling desperate to return to the (relatively speaking) comfort of his hotel room. At least there he had the space and time to ponder the things on his mind. Maybe he could make a call or two, as well.

Chris grinned. “Feeling a little antsy, are we? Don't forget, you have that interview to go to tomorrow, too.” Viktor nodded. “Anyway, we're done here. We'll leave as soon as you give the okay. Wanna go in the car or van?”

“Car,” Viktor replied immediately. The van was crammed with too many people; it made him feel claustrophobic.

“More time with your best friend, then? Good choice, Nikiforov, good choice.” Then Chris cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to Mila and Isabella, who were chatting a little bit away. “Let’s get out of here!”

Viktor coaxed Makkachin along, headed for the car, and once he was settled in his seat, seatbelt on, he patted his lap in an invitation for her to come along. She barked happily and hopped onto his lap, licking his face as he reached over and closed the door.

It was amazing, how she had been able to spot Yuuri so easily. But Viktor wasn't surprised, she had good senses for a dog her age.

He didn't think he was going to be able to suddenly come upon Yuuri like that a third time. Mila wasn't wrong when she'd said the odds of them meeting even a second time hadn't been astronomical; but it had happened, and hadn't he been told as a child that anything was possible?

Most of him hoped that he didn't see Yuuri again. There was something very, very wrong about him. It was unusual, seemingly inhuman. It was scary.

In spite of the rational side of himself, however, the side that said all these logical things, there was a smaller, more irrational part of himself that couldn't help but be intrigued by Yuuri, by how strange he was. This smaller part of him felt curiosity and excited and thrill all at once, and it was this part that  _ did  _ hope he would get the opportunity to see Yuuri, at least once more.

* * *

 

Viktor had been reading a book later that day, sitting barefoot on the luxurious bed in his hotel room, when there was a knock on his door. Folding the edge of the page he was on to mark his spot, he pushed off and got his feet. His naked toes sank into the soft carpet as he approached the door, assuming, knowing,  _ knowing  _ it had to be Chris—probably to ask him to go out and cause more trouble for a second night.

But when he answered, he found that he had been wrong in his assumptions. Instead of Chris, Isabella stood at the door wearing pink pajamas, a small makeup kit in one hand.

She pressed it into the palm of the other, a small smile lingering on her lips when she asked, “Do you mind if me and Mila give you a makeover? Chris is heading out in a bit and I don't think you want to go, so I figured I would make it look like you're busy so you don't have to.”

Viktor returned her smile with one of his own. She was right; he didn't want to go out. Not tonight. He still felt a bit queasy from all that had happened at the photo shoot that morning.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. Then he paused. “Are we going to do this in my room, or…?”

“Mila's waiting in her room, so I might as well take you to her. Come on.” She waved down the hall with the hand holding the makeup and began to walk down in that direction. Quickly, Viktor threw on a pair slippers, turned out the light in his room and closed the door, following after her.

“When do you think we're going to leave town?” Isabella asked him as they walked.

“I got off the phone with my manager earlier. He said we can have a few extra days to relax after the interview, so I’m thinking in about a week. But I also believe the reason he wants this is to raise publicity here.”

“Of course, though,” Isabella said. “Who wouldn't  _ want  _ to take a stop in Hasetsu, knowing that the famous model Viktor Nikiforov is here?” She laughed. “I like it here. I don't mind staying a bit, honestly.”

“Me, either.” Viktor brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear.  _ Maybe, if I get the chance to see Yuuri, I could— _

He halted the thought, almost stopping in his tracks.  _ No. You're not here so you can make friends. You're here for work. _

“Anyway, where are you supposed to have this interview, anyway? Some of the crew were talking about it, but I don't think I heard an exact location.”

Viktor took a little bit of time to recall, his mind reeling as he tried to find the answer. Then, finding himself completely hopeless, he shook his head and said, “An onsen somewhere around here. I can't remember the name.”

Isabella lit up.  _ “Oh.  _ Alright, I know what place you're talking about. It's the last one in town, what other onsen would you be talking about?”

Viktor resisted the sudden urge to ask her for the name of the place. He felt like it would be idiotic to do so, mainly because he was supposed to know about it more than anyone else. It was  _ his  _ interview, after all; and, not only that, but he'd talked about it not long ago with his manager.

Why, in the name of all that was good with the world, couldn't he remember the name?

He'd just have to look it up.

He was pulling his phone out of his pocket, ready to do so in a search engine; but the empty bars at the top of his screen stopped him.

What a convenient time to not have service. He returned his phone to his pocket, feeling disoriented and confused.

Isabella was at his side faster than he could process, one of her arms linked around his waist. Worried blue-green eyes met his. “Are you alright? You seem to be sick. What did you have to eat today?” She continued to bombard him with questions as she pressed the back of her free hand to his forehead, checking his temperature.

“I—I don't know,” he mumbled. It took a few moments before he started to compose himself, that lightheaded feeling beginning to fade away and the pain in his skull subsiding. “You might be right. I haven't been well since...last night, I believe.”  _ Before I met Yuuri. _

“You're probably just not used to drinking so much,” Isabella told him. She seemed happy to have found out what the problem was, her gaze softening. “Oh, thank goodness, I was scared it might have been something super serious. Are you sure you're feeling alright, though?” Reluctantly, she unlinked her arm from his waist, but stayed close in the case that she might need to catch him a second time.

Viktor rubbed at his temple, mildly surprised to find it drenched in sweat. He wiped his fingers off on his pants and forced a nod. “Yeah,” he said under his breath. Clearing his throat, he repeated himself, but with more confidence. “Yeah, I'm fine. We should go,” he added, quickly.

Isabella looked hesitant, but she said, “Alright, as long as you're sure. Just...let me know if you need anything. When we get to Mila's room I'll fix you a cup of tea. Tea always makes me feel better.”

“That would be great, thank you.” And Viktor meant it—the tea could help knock out his nausea.

They continued their walk, and once they made it to the door of Mila's room Isabella leaned forward and knock lightly. When there was no response after a moment, she knocked again, this time a little harder.

Finally, it branded a response from the inside. Mila's voice sounded distant. “Did you bring him?” she asked.

“Yes!” Isabella replied, bringing her hands together gleefully. “I have Viktor right here. Let us in.”

A few seconds of silence. Then Viktor heard the door being unlocked and Mila opened it, usher in the both of them inside before closing it again.

There was a grin on her face, so unlike how she had been that morning when she'd caught Viktor talking to Yuuri—and Viktor wondered for a second if she had told anyone about it. But then he banished the mere idea, almost wanting to laugh.  _ No. She would never do something like that.  _ He knew her too well for that.

“So,” Mila asked, taking a few steps forward until she was standing directly in front of Viktor. She scrutinized him, her eyes bright. “What do you want us to do with your hair?” Reaching over, she took a few of the silver locks and began to gently twist them around her finger. “How about a French braid?”

Isabella giggled and moved away from them, but only so she could go into the kitchen and make the tea like she said she would. “He would look really good with a French braid,” she commented as she opened one of the cabinets in search of ingredients. “Mila, do you think they have anything to make tea here?”

Mila peeled her attention away from Viktor, looking past his shoulder to see what she was doing. “I don't know. What kind of tea did you have in mind?”

Isabella sighed. “Oh, never mind. I'll just have to see what I can throw together with what they have here. Have you ever had Canadian herbal tea before? It's to die for!”

Viktor rolled his eyes, not in a way with any intent of ill-will. Somehow he always found himself caught up in the girls' talks, but he didn't think he minded. There was no such thing as a conversation running dry when it came to them.

Mila turned back to Viktor, and it wasn't until then he'd noticed her mood transition to something a little less ecstatic. “Oh,” she said, “Vitya, you look like you've seen a ghost.” However, there was a deep meaning to her words, a meaning that only Viktor would be able to understand.

“I know, it's awful,” Isabella replied from the kitchen. She held a pan in one hand. “I always knew Chris was a bad influence on him.”

“He's a bad influence on pretty much everyone,” Mila replied, grinning slightly, but it fell away as fast as it had come. She gazed at Viktor very seriously, her voice dropping to a whisper so Isabella wouldn't hear. “Is this about the person you met about the bar?”

Viktor shook his head. He didn't enjoy lying to her, but he wasn't sure what else to do. She knew Yuuri was odd, sure, but Viktor knew there was so much more to it than was being let on.

Something about it felt very, very abnormal. Supernatural, even. But Viktor didn't understand what it was about Yuuri that made it feel this way.

Mila didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't say anything else regarding the matter. Instead she gestured towards the bed that was a few feet away from them, wordlessly telling him to sit down. He obliged, sitting at the edge with his legs in a pretzel position on the mattress. Mila leaned downed on the floor behind him, beginning to run her fingers through his hair.

She hit a snag, causing him to hiss a bit in pain. “Yeesh, did you even  _ wash  _ it today?” No time later and a brush was being brought through it, the strokes slow and soft but firm all the same. “There are knots everywhere, especially towards the roots.”

“I'm not used to the stuff the hotel supplies, I suppose,” Viktor said thoughtfully, tilting his head back the slightest bit so she could have more access. “I forgot to ask you for what you usually give me for my hair. I was going to during the shoot, but...”

“Say no more. I'll give you some on your way out.” Mila applied a little more pressure to the knotted areas. Viktor wound his fingers into the fabric of his shirt to ride through the pain. “Your head is a mess.”

Isabella spoke up from the kitchen. Viktor had almost forgotten she was there, she had been working so quietly. “I wish I had as much hair as you. If I did, I'd be showing it off all day. I'm almost done with the tea, by the way,” she piped up, sounding cheerful. “You two are going to  _ love  _ it, I promise.”

“With promises like that, I had better.” Viktor felt the brush being pulled out of his hair as Mila continued. “And, when you're done with that, you should help me out with this mess.”

“What should we do with his face?” Isabella asked.

Viktor chuckled. “You two seem to know more about what I want than I do.”

Mila patted the top of his head. “That's because we do,” she replied.

She wasn't exactly wrong.

Something cold was being lathered into his hair then, and he assumed it some type of gel. “Vitya, your hair is going to  _ glow  _ tomorrow. Just keep it up overnight and don't move too much in your sleep and it should hold. You're going to look absolutely stunning.”

“Tomorrow morning before you leave we can help you with your makeup,” Isabella added, coming out of the kitchen now, a cup in each of her hands. She gave one to Viktor, then placed the other for Mila to grab when she was done. Retreating back into the kitchen, she grabbed her own cup and returned, sitting down on the ground next to the bed where Viktor could see her. “How is it?” she asked, and it took Viktor longer than necessary to realize she was talking about the tea.

He took a sip. It tasted bitter, but not in a way that was off-putting as long as he didn't down it in one shot. “Amazing,” he said, lowering the cup and placing it cautiously in his lap.

“Well, would it be anything less?” she teased, shooting him a wink.

“Once I'm done taking care of this I'll try mine,” Mila said. Viktor felt a hard tug on his hair, and he flinched as she began to start the braid, grabbing a bit of hair at a time.

“Hurry, before it gets cold,” Isabella warned her. “It doesn't taste as good when it's cold.”

Mila muttered something inaudible under her breath. Viktor and Isabella exchanged glances. Isabella mouthed,  _ “I don't know.” _

“Where do you think we're going next?” Mila asked after a moment, tugging hard again so what she had done so far would stay. “Maybe we could go back to France.  _ Ooh-la-la,  _ I hear Paris is really nice this time of year.”

“To be fair, Paris is nice any time of year,” Isabella said.

“Yeah, but you know what I mean. I wouldn't mind living there. But nothing can quite beat home, right, Vitya?” Viktor felt a nudge on his shoulder.

He nodded. “Of course.” He couldn't imagine living anywhere other than St. Petersburg. But he also guessed that was part of the reason why his homesickness was so bad in the first place.

“We'll be there before you know it,” Mila assured him, her voice soothing. “With all the traveling we've been doing lately, I'm sure being there will feel odd, as stupid as that might sound.”

Viktor fixated his gaze at a particular spot on the floor. As usual, she was right; however, that didn't help him feel any better. No matter how odd it might be, he still wanted to be there. Desperately so. He wanted to be there so much it hurt, the kind of wanting that was so deep and personal it was threatening to tear him apart, piece by piece.

Sometimes it felt as if he couldn't even breathe—and, in a way, he  _ actually  _ couldn't, in a literal sense.

“Anyway, let's not talk about such sad things,” Mila said, and cleared her throat. “Maybe we could go out to eat tomorrow, like we did today. Some of the food they have here actually isn't half-bad. I'm gonna have to Google a few recipes or something. Probably won't be made as good as it is here, though.”

“Are you okay?” Isabella asked, stopping Mila before she could continue, and Viktor realized—albeit slowly—that she was talking to him.

“I'm fine,” he said, too fast to make himself sound believable. He took another sip of his tea in an attempt to mask his distractedness. “Sorry, something came to mind, is all.”

“Maybe you should go to sleep early tonight,” Mila told him, pausing with Viktor's hair for a moment. “You know, so you aren't so tired at your interview tomorrow.” Then she continued with her braid, adding, “Just make sure not to get your hair wet or anything. If this gets ruined I'm probably going to scream. This is some of my best work.”

“When we're done here, I think I'm going to go pick up Makkachin,” Viktor said thoughtfully, tipping his cup to one side carefully and watching the tea slosh around inside. “A walk could help clear my mind a little.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Isabella agreed, smiling sweetly. “We could come with you, if you want.”

“Thank you, but that's alright. You two probably have things to take care of. Besides, I think I'll be fine enough with Makkachin. You can never get lost with her, and I have the GPS on my phone, too.”

Mila only hummed in acknowledgement that she'd heard, while Isabella nodded and got up to put her empty cup in the sink—she'd finished her tea already.

Viktor, personally, wasn't in the mood for tea anymore, but he settled on finishing his anyway. He didn't want to be rude.

* * *

 

Yuuri could tell it was going to rain. He felt it was at first that morning—though there wasn't a single cloud in the sky to prove him right in this assumption—and he could feel it now, even stronger than before. He placed his hands on his knees as he stared out at the sky, full of vivid colors, reds and pinks and purples, as the sun set. This was his favorite time of day, as it had been for years.

Tipping his head back, he let out a long, deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. He was still at the beach, seated on one of the larger rocks close to the shore. He hadn't left since he'd seen Viktor at his photo shoot.

_ How idiotic,  _ he thought, and opened his eyes; just barely, he held down a laugh.  _ What even is the point?  _ What was the point of things like modeling? What kind of pleasure did people find in it—besides the aesthetic beauty, of course. It was as if the entire human race revolved around feeling bad about themselves.

But, he surmised with a slight frown, he was no better than anyone else. All he  _ did  _ these days was feel bad about himself; just as he was right now, sitting here with no purpose of moving, smelling the rain in the air and viewing the approaching darkness of night.

He was glad the sun was almost gone. He wasn't particularly a fan of going out during the day, choosing to stay inside and sleep most of the time. Actually, he had no idea what had caused him to want him to go out today, what kind of thought had possessed him to.

A low sound, something along the lines of a click, came from somewhere on the beach. He ignored it, figuring it must be a crab trying to find a place to rest for the night—and he supposed he should do the same, considering he was exhausted from not getting any sleep in the past twenty-four hours.

He pushed his glasses up his face as he rubbed one of his eyes. He wasn't…exactly sure what he was still doing here.  _ I should be at home.  _ But he needed something to drink, and that was the problem. He hadn't been able to find  _ anything  _ to drink in the last few days.

Well, there was the bar he'd gone to last night, but that didn't count. Alcohol  _ was  _ capable of satisfying his needs, as Phichit had told him it would. However, it didn't last long—and, most importantly, all it  _ really _ seemed to succeed in doing was making him drunk, and he wasn't a huge fan of being drunk. Hangovers were hell.

But there had been Viktor. Honestly, Yuuri had come upon him on complete accident. All he could recall was picking up on a particularly pleasant scent and following it, which of course lead to…

He shook his head. He was trying his best not to think about what had happened after that, talking to Viktor and flirting with him… He had no idea what had come over him (well, actually, he did—it was the damn alcohol) but he swore after he left the bar that he'd never let it happen again, not ever.

_ I can't become too attached,  _ he reminded himself, shifting a bit and resting his head atop his knees.  _ Life is just too short and too insignificant, I can't. _

Maybe, he thought, he could leave town—for the first time in  _ years— _ and travel around like Viktor did. Maybe he could go to a lot of different places, find a new town or city to live in…

He'd been here for too long. Even though he loved Hasetsu—it was the place he was born and raised in, his true home—this place...it brought back too many memories, reminded him of too many terrible things. If he stayed here any longer he would lose his mind. (Which was relatively speaking; he'd begun to lose his mind a very long time ago, but that was besides the point.)

However, his wanting—no,  _ needing— _ to leave raised a whole new problem all on its own, and said problem was about  _ how  _ he was going to leave, how he was  _ supposed  _ to leave.

Should he just...go? Catch a boat or a bus or a plane and never look back? (Planes were expensive, but he was sure he could sneak on one…) Should he just simply begin to run, run until his legs gave out, run until he collapsed? In spite of the mood of the thought, he smiled; yes, that's what he would do. He would  _ run.  _ It felt great to run. On top of that, the idea of running and leaving all his problems behind him, in the past...Oh, he couldn't wait. In fact, he wanted to go  _ now. _

But he couldn't. There were metaphorical chains holding him down by his wrists and his ankles and were holding him  _ so tight  _ he knew trying to escape them would be a fruitless effort, making him not want to try at all.

What was it that these metaphorical chains represented, though? Some part of his subconscious mind, not wanting to leave behind the place where he'd last seen his family, his friends? He was sure it had to be this, and this alone. What else could it be? There was no other reason for him to stay here...or, at least, he was sure there wasn't. He was almost completely certain.

There was the sound from the beach a second time, much louder than it had been before, causing him to snap his head up and turn in that direction. Nothing was there, which he wasn't too surprised to see; but  _ sight  _ was merely a simple construct. Sight could betray people.

Something was there. He tensed without standing, sitting upright with his shoulders squaring and his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

No, he corrected, shaking his head. Not something.  _ Someone.  _ He sniffed.

_ Oh,  _ he thought, feeling foolish. He allowed himself to relax. His shoulders slouched and his hands unclenched. He sighed out in relief and another emotion he couldn't quite recognize at the moment. Then he said, “Phichit, I know you're there. You can come out now.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit said, and when Yuuri turned his head to the side his friend was sitting next to him. “I've been looking for you  _ all day.  _ What have you been doing?”

“I've been here all day,” Yuuri replied simply, an amused smile twitching on one corner of his lips. He held it back. “What about you? What have  _ you  _ been doing all day?”

“Like I said; looking for you.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Yuuri, do you pay attention to anything I tell you?  _ Wait,”  _ he blurted out, quite suddenly. “You've been here the entire day?” He frowned, listing his head slightly to one side. “Is there...a reason for that?”

“I...saw someone, is all.”

Phichit’s eyes widened. “Was it—”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted, peeling his own eyes away. “It was someone else.”

“Oh, alright.” Phichit seemed to be sated with that clarification. He leaned forward and, with a careful, gloved hand, he began to trace the dirt caking the rock they were sitting on. It took Yuuri a few seconds to realize he was making some sort of pattern. “That's good. But what do you mean ‘someone else?’ Who was it?”

Yuuri figured there was no point in making up some unbelievable lie, so he swallowed and said, “A Russian man. I met him at a bar last night. He's a model, and he and his crew were out on the beach this morning having a photo shoot. Or something. I don't know, I think that's what he said.” But he knew Viktor hadn't said that, at least not all of it; the only thing Viktor had told him about his career was at the bar, and even that was just telling Yuuri that he was a model. Yuuri managed to figure out the rest on his own.

“What would a Russian model be doing a photo shoot in Japan?” Phichit question. He sounded confused, having a harder time grasping the concept than need be—but Yuuri supposed that was alright, because Phichit didn't really pay attention to a lot of things that went on these days.

Yuuri shrugged. “I don't know. He told me that he does a lot of traveling for his work, so I'm guessing this was a location he had to be at.”

Phichit's face lit up in understanding. “Ah. That makes  _ much  _ more sense.” He pulled away from what he was making in the dirt and sat back instead, almost laying down—holding his body weight up by his elbows. “I would fancy a bit of traveling myself.”

“Would you now?” Yuuri asked. It seemed as if Phichit could read his mind; he'd just been thinking about traveling.

“Absolutely. Seeing new things and meeting new people would sure be more entertaining than staying here, don't you think? Wouldn't  _ you  _ like to leave sometime?”

Yuuri pressed a finger to his lips in thought, though he already half-knew what his answer was. “I don't think I would be able to,” he replied honestly. “With everything that Hasetsu means to me, I'm not sure if leaving is a possibility…”

“Of  _ course  _ it's a possibility,” his friend countered, tone sounding rather dismissive. “What you lack, Yuuri, is the courage to move on. I mean, moving on isn't easy to do—you know I understand this—but  _ once  _ you do everything becomes so much more...simple. Like you don't why you let what was holding you back hold you back in the first place.”

_ “How  _ does one move on, though?” Yuuri asked, his voice so quiet he barely heard himself.

“There's no definite way,” Phichit said, “but I'm sure you'll find your own.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I believe in you. I have for years.” Phichit pushed himself up and sat straight, beginning to rub some of the tension out of one of his shoulders. “If I  _ didn't  _ believe in you, I wouldn't be here, now would I?”

He wouldn't. The fact that he'd been staying here this long to support Yuuri was amazing all it's own. Having friends that cared was such an amazing things—and Yuuri tried to push to the back of his mind the memory of other friends he'd had, friends that were no longer with him. He couldn't make himself upset over this now, not with Phichit here to see him.

Yuuri should his head, allowing a soft laugh to slip out; the sound easy and reserved, but still laced with the nervousness he felt deep down inside. There was no hiding his emotions from Phichit, as he was just as capable at picking up on things like this.

Sometimes it was annoying. Sometimes it was a blessing. It depended.

“How's about we go take a walk?” Phichit asked as he got to his feet. “We can have a drink while we’re at it, too.” For a moment Yuuri thought he meant a drink in terms of alcoholic beverages, then realized that wasn’t what he meant at all. “There has to be some type of small mammal, something, running around somewhere.”

That was right. Yuuri didn't hurt humans. Not after the incident...but  _ that  _ had happened years ago, and he didn't like to think about it.

So  _ instead  _ of thinking about it, Yuuri took Phichit's offered hand and allowed his friend to pull him up. Once he was on his feet, he began to brush off the dirt that had gotten on his pants. “Alright,” he said, his voice low.

Phichit began to climb down the rock first, Yuuri following suit—and he hung onto a groove for a few seconds longer than necessary before releasing, his feet hitting the sand with a light thump of a sound. Phichit was already walking on ahead, and he picked up his pace a little in order to catch up.

“What's on the menu today, do you think?” Phichit asked once they were side-to-side, his head tilted up as he considered the options. “Alley rats, stray cats…Hey, that rhymed!” He laughed, but the light mood died fast. “This is painful,” he said.

Yuuri nodded in agreement;  _ none  _ of those things were satisfying—much less worth even taking a look at—but, as decided a long time ago, hurting humans would only do more harm than good, so they had to stick with what was doable; as in, doable in a way that  _ wouldn't  _ cause problems.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we got to any pets?”

_ “Yes,”  _ Yuuri said, giving him a warning look. He knew it was meant to be a joke, but it wasn't funny. That would cause problems, too.

“I'm kidding,” Phichit said in return and, when Yuuri didn't say anything after a moment, he stopped walking and gazed at him very seriously. “What's on your mind?” he asked. “You're very distracted today.”

“I'm very tired,” Yuuri told him. It wasn't exactly a lie. He  _ was,  _ but not for the reasons that Phichit might have been thinking. He slicked back a piece of hair that had fallen in his face. “Listen, how about I just go on alone? I'll be able to find something. Besides, you're better at looking than I am. You can find something faster without me there holding you down.”

Phichit seemed reluctant, but he nodded. “I'll talk to you sometime later, then?”

“Yeah, definitely. Thank you for the talk.”

“Any time. See you around,” he said, and just as suddenly he was gone, leaving Yuuri alone with his many, many thoughts.

* * *

 

Soon after Mila had finished his French braid for the next day (followed by a short talk, which consisted of talk about Isabella’s wedding, along with some gossip on the side) Viktor wished the girls a good night and headed out the hotel, walking a few blocks to the house where Makkachin was staying. She greeted him with a tackle and excited barks, a few licks to his face, and he scratched her under her ears and asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?” even though he already knew the answer. Makkachin  _ always  _ wanted to go on a walk.

The sun was going down, signaling the end of the day. Viktor figured it would be best if they didn’t stay out for too long so he could turn in early like Mila had advised him to—maybe their walk would be an hour, at the most.

Things had been going well. Makkachin would run ahead of him excitedly from time to time, and he would react by catching up to her and beginning to coax her down a little, but that was hardly a problem; he knew she wouldn’t stray too far.

But, when it just started to grow dark out, Makkachin peeled away from him, rushing off ahead ten, twenty, thirty feet, all before turning and disappearing in an alleyway. It took Viktor a full minute to process what was happening before he followed after her, is feet hitting the ground with loud slaps as he called out her name over and over again, his hands cupped around his mouth.

It wasn’t like her to simply...leave him like that; and, he noted, it was kind of like that had happened at the beach that morning, when she had acted up because she’d seen…

_ Yuuri. _

Viktor knew what he was going to be greeted with the moment his body turned and he started for the alleyway Makkachin had disappeared to, his breathing heavy and labored from running so hard.

At least, he  _ thought  _ he knew what he was going to see.

Makkachin was lying down on her stomach, facing the direction of a familiar figure whose back was too Viktor. She lifted her head and turned to face Viktor, coming close to pushing him onto the ground as she stood and placed her front paws on his chest. However, he managed to balance out, and he looked past her at  _ Yuuri,  _ who was still on his knees on the ground, not acknowledging them.

He hadn’t noticed them yet.

Viktor blinked. Not entirely sure of what he too, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when Makkachin got back down onto all fours and barked at Yuuri, a friendly hello.

Yuuri must not have taken it that way, because he started and got to his feet and swiveled around in their direction, his eyes wide and panicked. Viktor practically mirrored his expression when he took in his appearance.

Yuuri caught on. He reached up with one arm and attempted to wipe off his face, but it was to no use. He was only smearing it all over himself.

“I—I’m…” Viktor began to say, but trailed off, not able to find the words he was trying to search for. Whatever left he was trying to say died on his lips, there but not quite leaving.

Yuuri’s hair was a mess, so unlike how it had been at the bar and at the beach that morning, sticking out and up all over the place, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses (which Viktor didn’t notice until later had been lying on the ground somewhere). His lips were parted slightly, a string of red escaping and trailing down to his chin in a thin line. It was the same red that stained his face around his lips, on his shirt and his pants, and, based upon the strong, coppery smell that filled the air and the dead mouse Yuuri was holding one hand, Viktor could take a wild guess at what it was.

“It isn’t what it looks like!” Yuuri said, holding his arms up in the air like he was being arrested. Viktor eyed the mouse, and he dropped it onto the ground, kicking it away—as if getting rid of the evidence now would change anything. He hesitated, then let out a long breath. “Okay, actually, it is  _ exactly  _ what it looks out. But don’t freak out, please!” he added, quickly. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

Makkachin remained undeterred to the reality to of the situation. She walked up to Yuuri and sat down in front of him, her short tail wagging happily.

Viktor, still at a loss for words, took a small step backwards, away from Yuuri. He gestured to Makkachin, silently telling her to come over, and she did.

Yuuri attempted to wipe at the blood again, but it smeared even more, rubbing off on his hand. He muttered a curse under a breath and ran that hand through his hair ( to which Viktor found a  _ little  _ disturbing) as his eyes traveled the general area. Apparently he had nothing to see, as well, but that wasn't much of a reassurance.

“H— _ how?”  _ Yuuri asked at last, his voice bordering on nothing more than a whisper. A heartbeat, then two, and he reiterated, louder. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn't,” Viktor replied cautiously. He waves a hand at Makkachin.  _ “She  _ did.”

Makkachin barked at being acknowledged—but at the startled look Yuuri gave her, she shrank back, leaning into Viktor, her head lowered.

“This is...this looks really bad, doesn't it?” Yuuri said. He shook his head and slapped himself on the forehead. “Stupid,  _ stupid.  _ I can't believe I let this happen…” And he began to pace back in forth, whispering things in Japanese, all before facing Viktor and asking, “You...you're not going to tell anyone that you saw this, are you? Because if you did—”

“Well, if I  _ did,”  _ Viktor interrupted without meaning too, his voice shaky, “I'm not sure anyone would take me seriously. I mean, it would sound pretty fictitious, don't you think?”

Something else in Japanese; the tone it was spoken in had Viktor assuming it was yet another curse. “I suppose that's fair.” Yuuri shook his head a second time, laughing. “You know what's funny?”

Viktor wanted to turn around and run at that last question because there was, in fact, nothing funny about what was happening, at least not in his opinion, anyway. Still, he gathered his courage and asked, “What's funny?”

“The fact that you haven't run away,” Yuuri told him. “I mean, I'm sure any sensible person would be ten thousand yards away from me right now, and they most certainly wouldn't be engaging in a conversation with me—I mean,  _ why?  _ Why are you here? Why aren't you running away from me.”

Viktor mulled over his answer. Yuuri was right on one thing; he  _ should  _ be running away, as far away from this Japanases man—did he even really constitute as a man at this point? Viktor wasn't sure—as fast as he could, taking Makkachin with.

_ However,  _ there was something about Yuuri…

Viktor cleared his throat. “I think,” he said cautiously, “it's because I don't find you threatening.”

Yuuri's shoulders slumped. “Well, that's a first.”

Viktor leaned down and placed his hands gently on either side of Makkachin, holding her close for protection.  _ Just in case, _ he figured. Just in case. “Do you mean it when you say you aren't going to hurt me?”

“Yes.” Yuuri's reply was instantaneous, and that was how Viktor knew he meant it. “I promise I won't do anything to hurt you.”

“Alright, then.” Viktor's heart was racing evermore, but at least he knew now it wasn't because he was scared he was going to get killed by Yuuri...whatever he was.

They were both quiet for one minute, two minutes, and soon it became three. All passing by without a single word uttered, to the point where it was starting to drive Viktor insane. Void the silence, he was about to ask something along the lines of  _ What next,  _ but stopped just short of speaking when there was a sharp, cold prick to his nose, lasting no more than an instant.

It wasn't until another raindrop hit the ground that he realized what it was, he had to stop himself from crying out.  _ Damn it.  _ Mila had told him not to get his hair wet.

Yuuri tilted his head up towards the sky. Viktor saw a raindrop land on his face. Strangely enough, it elicited a smile. “Ah,” he said. “I  _ knew  _ it was going to rain?”

Viktor didn't get a chance to respond, because he was trying to duck away from the rain, but there was nothing to hide under here. He had to drop Makkachin off and get back to the hotel—and fast, at that.

“I need to leave,” Viktor told Yuuri. He had no idea why he felt so inclined to, but he did. It just felt like the right thing to do.

Yuuri's eyes met his. They flashed in the night, almost seeming bright despite being a dark color. “Alright,” he said.

Viktor turned around, ready to leave. Then, a step or two away, he paused. He looked back at Yuuri, who had his listed to one side and was watching him curiously.

“Listen,” he said, “how about you come back to the hotel with me?” The rain was starting to pour down harder now, and he stifled a complaint about his hair so he could add, “We could get you cleaned up, you can leave in the morning. Just...we can't have you walking around covered in bloodstained clothes. People aren't exactly going to take that in a positive light.”

What was he  _ doing?  _ Not only had he found something—no, some _ one,  _ he decided to correct himself—but he was inviting that someone to stay in his hotel room for the night? Wasn't that how people  _ died? _

He couldn't take it back now, though. He'd asked, and now he had to take the consequences of whatever Yuuri decided to answer.

“Y—yes, alright.” Yuuri swallowed. “As long as it's alright with you.”

“Good,” Viktor said. He licked his lips. “Let's hurry. I was told not to get my hair wet.”

They walked quickly, a walk that soon turned into a run, and Viktor dropped Makkachin off and gave her a fast hug in farewell, at least for now, before he and Yuuri started for the hotel next, the sound of feet slapping against water as they rushed. Viktor seemed to be more out of breath than Yuuri, his breathing labored and rough, while Yuuri looked perfectly fine, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes staring straight ahead.

Yuuri was holding back, Viktor realized. Yuuri could run much, much faster than this. He was just slowing down for  _ his  _ sake. And he laughed inwardly at the thought, not knowing whether he should be flattered or terrified.

When they arrived inside they rushed past the lobby and got into the elevator before anybody there could ask questions; and, once they arrived on Viktor's floor, he ushered Yuuri over to his room. He fished his keys out of his pocket with record speed and unlocked the door.

He didn't feel safe enough to let out a sigh of relief until they were both inside and the door was locked. Sliding down the door, he met the ground and closed his eyes as he attempted to recollect himself.

When he opened his eyes again Yuuri was staring at him with those wide eyes.

“Why are you trusting me?” Yuuri sounded incredulous. “How can you trust me when I say that won't hurt you?”

_ I don't know,  _ Viktor thought, but he couldn't find the ability to say it aloud. So instead he decided to return Yuuri's inquiries with one of his own.

“What  _ are  _ you?”

Yuuri didn't reply with words, only opening his mouth partway and running his tongue along his bloody incisors—his  _ fangs,  _ his sharp, deadly fangs—and that was the only answer Viktor needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we talk more about Viktor's interview and how it relates to Yuuri. (But you can probably guess how it does.)


	4. Neighbor of Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri offered Viktor his protection. Viktor learned something about Yuuri he probably shouldn't have.
> 
> Things were heading down a rough path, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter a week ago but forgot to post it until now OOPS.

As if having a dangerous creature of the night holed up in his hotel room wasn't bad enough on its own, said dangerous creature of the night's clothes were covered in rodent blood and Viktor wasn't entirely sure if a cycle through his room's standard washing machine and dryer were going to do anything to get it out.

However, Viktor tried nonetheless, having Yuuri change into some of the extra clothes he had stowed away in his dresser, bundling up the bloodied clothes in his arms with his nose turned upright so he wouldn't have to smell them. He hastily tossed them in the washing machine and closed the door, starting a heavy wash before returning to the main room. He was still shaking, in shock, but he didn't want Yuuri to know that.

Were vampires able to sense fear? He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a vampire movie, so he had no idea—nor did he want to take any chances.

Yuuri was washing off his face with a complimentary towel, to Viktor's horror. It was white; blood stains would  _ definitely  _ not be able to washed away on those.

Yuuri must have been able to understand what he was thinking, because suddenly he was dropping the towel. Sure enough, there was enough blood wiped onto it to make it look like it'd been used to try to clean up a crime scene.

“Sorry,” he said, hands covering his face. His eyes were wide and scared behind his glasses. “I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean—” He pauses mid sentence, then glanced over at Viktor and asked, through his hands, “If I got rid of it, do you think anyone would notice?”

Viktor ran an uncertain hand through his silver locks, shaking with the reality with this whole situation. “I have no idea. Probably not.”

Yuuri folded up the towel and threw it in the trash bin near Viktor's bed—though Viktor didn't understand, exactly, why one would need to be so neat in regards to disposing of something—and began to pace around a bit, his hands going into his hair. He was mumbling things along the lines of, “I can't believe he's  _ trusting me,”  _ and, “What is even happening with my life anymore?”

Surprisingly, Viktor found that he could relate...at least, in a sense. Theoretically.

“So,” Viktor piped up at last. Yuuri stopped pacing at the sound of his voice and turned to face him, watching him like  _ he  _ was the dangerous one. “You're not going to drink my blood while I sleep?”  _ Or, worse, leave my room while I'm sleeping and drink the blood of  _ other  _ people.  _ He wasn't sure how huge the effect of allowing a vampire to go rampant in a hotel would be on his career, but he was almost certain it wouldn't be positive.

Yuuri seemed to be offended by the question. His body, previously tense, relaxed, his shoulders falling and his hands hanging lifelessly at his sides. “No, of course not. I promised I wouldn't hurt you, and I won't.”

“Or anyone else?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don't hurt humans,” he said; and, for some reason, Viktor found himself more confused than reassured at that.

“You don't...hurt...humans,” Viktor echoed.

“I stopped a long time ago,” Yuuri told him, and turned away. Obviously he didn't want Viktor to question that last part. “I only really harm small animals nowadays…” He cringed. “I think you saw enough to realize that in the alleyway.”

Viktor could barely hear him. He took a step forward. Yuuri flinched, like he was going to hurt him. “You're...I didn't think that vampires were actually  _ real,”  _ he mused, placing a hand under his chin in thought. It was as if all his fear had suddenly washed away and was now replaced with fascination. “I thought they were just what you saw in movies…”

“Yes, that  _ is  _ what a lot of people think,” Yuuri agreed, pushing his glasses up his nose, “and it  _ needs  _ to stay that way. Please don't tell anyone about me. I could get in a lot of trouble. You weren't supposed to see m—” And, out of nowhere, he was on edge again. “Oh my God, I'm going to be in  _ so much trouble.  _ And when I tell Phichit he is going to  _ freak out.” _

“Calm down,” Viktor said, not sure of whom Yuuri would get in trouble with. “You're not going to be in any trouble because I'm not going to tell anyone about you, alright?” Yuuri eyed him skeptically. “Everything is going to be fine. Tomorrow morning it will be as if this never happened.”

“If only things were that easy.” Yuuri sighed out and walked over to the other side of the room. He opened the window, as if he were going to jump out; but he glanced back at Viktor and muttered, “Nice view.”

Viktor smiled. “It is.”

“I'm curious, though,” Yuuri said after a long, painful moment of silence passed between them. He gazed out the window as he spoke. “How did your dog manage to find me so easily? I don't have a scent. She shouldn't have been able to smell me, much less notice me.”

Now that had Viktor thinking, both about Makkachin's sense of smell and the fact that he'd just learned that vampires don't smell. “This is all pretty new to me,” he admitted. “I haven't exactly met a vampire before to find this out.”

“This is rather new to me, as well,” Yuuri told him, swiveling around to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were filled with some type of emotion Viktor couldn't quite detect at the moment. “How old is your dog, by the way?”

Viktor rubbed his forehead. “Her name is Makkachin,” he said, a little frustrated his lifetime companion being called a ‘dog.’ Of course, she  _ was,  _ but she felt like so much more than that to him. “I've had her for over a decade. She'd pretty old in dog years. Why do you ask?”

“I figured she would be young. Older dogs' senses don't work as well…” The Japanese let out a breath through his nose, one hand rubbing underneath his chin as if he were thinking deeply about something. “There's something about all of this—about meeting you—that has me on edge. I'm worried.”

“About what, exactly?” Viktor hadn't fully registered how disheveled he was until then, taking in the fact that the clothes he was wearing were soaked, and so was his hair—which meant Mila wasn't going to give him a break when she found out tomorrow morning. He stared down at the wet, muddy footprints he and Yuuri had both left in the hotel carpet. Noting on noticeable they were, they were likely going to be trailed to this room.

“I'm having a...premonition, of sorts. Like something bad is supposed to happen.”

Viktor lifted his gaze. “I said I wouldn't tell anyone about you, and I intend to stay true to that promise.” But he was curious. “What would be so bad about me telling anyone, anyway? It isn't like anyone would necessarily believe me. After all, doesn't talk of meeting a vampire at a bar seem a bit fictitious to you?”

“You don't understand. The gravity of the situation would be quite terrible, I assure you.”

Taking in the way his lips were pulled back into a frown and his eyes were constantly flickering around the room, looking out for someone that might be watching them, Viktor found that he didn't doubt him.

“I'm assured,” Viktor said. His skin crawled, wondering if he really  _ was  _ being watched.

Yuuri seemed convinced that they were.

“Anyhow,” he continued, ignoring how they'd just been having a very serious, life-changing conversation, “I should probably get changed into pajamas and fix my hair before tomorrow. I need rest.” As he spoke, he crossed the room in quick strides and began to pull nightclothes out of the top drawer of his dresser, gathering them in one arm. “You're… Are you planning to stay the night?” he asked, lifting his head.

“As in, walking aimlessly around the room while you rest?” Yuuri clarified. “Because, in a case like that, yes, I suppose I am. My friend is going to be worrying about me so much, though,” he added after a second, reconsidering his decision. “Oh, God, I'm such a fool.”

Viktor glanced at him. “When you say ‘my friend,’ is that in reference to another one of your kind?”

“Of course.”

Viktor picked up a complimentary towel. “Just making sure.” He headed to the bathroom so he could change in private, in the chance that Yuuri might decide to stay. “By the way, do you mind me asking how old you are?”

Yuuri hesitated; Viktor had hit a sore spot.

After some time, he murmured, “Technically, I'm twenty-four.”

Viktor considered saying along the lines of, “Yes, but how  _ long _ have you been twenty-four?” but thought better of it, knowing it was none of his business. He gripped the knob on the bathroom door. “I would have taken you for younger,” was all he said aloud.

“T—Thank you,” Yuuri replied, averting his eyes.

“I'll be out in a minute.”

“Alright.”

Viktor moved to slip inside the bathroom, one hand on the door so he could close it behind himself.

“By the way, Viktor.”

Viktor paused. “Yes?”

“Thank you for not running away.”

“You're welcome.”

Then Yuuri turned away from him, gazing out the window once again, and Viktor at last entered the bathroom. Once he was inside, he locked the door and pressed his back against the surface, taking a few seconds to recollect himself and properly take in the events of everything that happened since he arrived in Haestsu.

Okay, so he had met Yuuri at a bar. That was normal enough. Yuuri had mysteriously disappeared at said bar. Not so normal. The next morning, at Viktor’s photo shoot at the beach, Yuuri had seemed to show up out of thin air, only to leave as fast as he had come. Less normal. Nxt was earlier tonight, when he had been Makkachin and Makkachin ran away, and then he found Yuuri yet again in an alleyway, sucking the blood out of a rodent.

Definitely not normal.

Now, Yuuri was in his hotel room, his face stained in blood, and Viktor had no idea what to do. In fact, the sole reason he hadn’t collapsed already from shock was because of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, keeping him on edge. There was a  _ vampire  _ in his hotel room.

_ “I would have taken you for younger,”  _ he remembered saying.

He had been  _ flirting  _ with a  _ vampire. _

He ran a hand through his hair, which, he realized, was still wet. Mumbling nonsense in Russian, he took a hairdryer and plugged it into an outlet, then put it on ‘heavy dry’ and held it close to his head, mentally willing his hair to dry as fast as possible. Once it was dry, he unplugged the hairdryer and began to brush back any hair that was sticking out, not stopping until he was relatively satisfied.

He got dressed in due time and exited the bathroom.

Yuuri wasn’t there.

Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Yuuri was flighty; plus, he  _ had  _ said there was a friend that would be worried about him. Viktor moved to place the towel down with the others, but was scared right out of his skin when suddenly Yuuri was standing next to him, looking to be somewhat concerned.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, raising his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean t—Well, I should probably start staying in one place, shouldn’t I?”

“That,” Viktor breathed, clutching his heart, “sounds like a good idea.”

Yuuri sat down on the side of the bed. He took off his glasses, folding the temples and putting them on the bedside dresser. Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, hands under his chin in a position that somewhat reminded Viktor of a sculpture he’d seen once. They fell into silence.

Viktor turned out the room’s light and got into the bed, too, leaning against the headboard, eyeing Yuuri carefully—the vampire’s back was to him, so he shouldn’t have noticed. Subconsciously, Viktor pulled up the blanket to his knees and moved his gaze to a particularly nice spot on the ceiling instead.

Finally, Yuuri spoke, his voice small, sounding almost human. “You really mean it when you say you won’t tell anyone about me?” This question was asked in an antsy manner, unsure.

Viktor could understand why he was having a hard time trusting him. After all, they were hardly even friends, not to mention Viktor had found out something he wasn’t supposed to. The thought that Yuuri might get in trouble because of it made him angry, but not at Yuuri. Mad at whomever it was that was that Yuuri was so scared of.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” said Yuuri, sounding relieved. “It’s hard to find people like you nowadays, you know. People that do things for the sake of being kind, for the benefit of other people. I can’t remember the last time I met anyone like that.”

“Neither can I,” Viktor agreed. Yuuri didn’t respond.

With that, Viktor scooched down until he was in a lying position, the blanket now pulled up to his collarbone. When he glanced over, he could barely see it in the darkness, but Yuuri was still there, sitting on the side of his bed, unmoving.

After staring at him for a moment, Viktor found he couldn’t sleep. He felt wide awake.

As if he could read his thoughts, Yuuri shifted, the mattress creaking at the action, facing him. Viktor could see his eyes flash. “You’re having trouble sleeping, aren’t you?” Viktor nodded. “Yeah, I would, too. Don’t worry.”

Gently, nimble fingers brushed against his eyelids, closing them; and, suddenly, Viktor felt a wave of exhaustion overcome him, so great that all his muscles seemed to fail, his brain seemed to stop functioning properly. He couldn’t think, much less allow his eyes to open again. He wasn’t sure he had ever been this tired in his entire life.

Yuuri’s fingers moved down, brushing over his cheek now. “Good night, Viktor.”

Viktor went out without protest.

* * *

 

When he woke up, it was due to sunshine in his eyes. He blinked sleepily, exhausted as all hell. His eyes opened, if for a brief moment before his body said to close them and return to sleeping, and in that brief moment he caught Yuuri closing the curtains abruptly, blocking out the light. For that, Viktor felt grateful.

As he slipped out of consciousness, he heard Yuuri mutter something, something that sounded strangely like, “How did I ever stand this?”

The next time he came around it was for good; and it was much faster, too, him blinking away and sitting up, rubbing whatever sleep was left out of his eyes. He yawned loudly, throwing one arm over his mouth to muffle the sound. When his vision cleared, he looked over and saw Yuuri sitting down in a dark corner of the room, where the sun didn’t touch, his chin rested atop his knees.

“What time is it?” Viktor asked him. He shrugged.

“Time is relative.”

“Yes, but it’s  _ important,”  _ Viktor said, realizing he could look over at the alarm clock on the bedside dresser.  _ Oh, dear.  _ He threw the blanket aside and got to his feet, heading to his dresser and beginning to rip out clothes. “I’m going to be late, I can’t believe this.”

To emphasize this, when he checked his phone, there was a missed call and a few frantic texts from Chris.  _ Damn it. _

Yuuri stood as well. “Late for what?”

"An interview. It’s why we came here.  _ Damn it,”  _ he cursed, as he quickly threw on his new clothes—which, honestly, he should not have been handling so carelessly—not caring that Yuuri was right there or that his hair was most likely a tangled mess as an aftermath from the rain last night. “I should have set set the alarm to go off or—or I could have...I can’t believe this.”

“It’s my fault,” Yuuri told him. He sounded genuinely sorry, shifting from foot to foot. “I put you in too deep a sleep. You were out like a light.”

“It’s fine, Yuuri,” Viktor said. “I don’t blame you for any of this. You were only trying to help. Thank you.”

Yuuri smiled.

“But I have to go. If I’m late it’s going to be very bad for me.”

Yuuri’s smile faltered. “When you put it like that, I have to go, too. I might get in trouble, much like you, but for completely different reasons.” He took a step forward. “Thank you, once again, for helping me. It would be rude of me to not try to repay you.”

“It’s quite alright, really—”

“No.” He shook his head. “I owe you for taking me in so kindly.” Then he paused in consideration. “How about this? I can offer you my protection.”

That was enough to make Viktor feel sick. “Protection?” he echoed. “Protection from  _ what?” _

“Anything,” Yuuri said matter-of-factly. “Everything. The world is a very dangerous place. You never know what might get in your way.” He sighed. “Never mind. You need to go. Just call whenever you need me.”

Viktor would have said something about not having his number, but Yuuri was already gone, a blur before there was nothing there in the spot where he had been standing.

There was a knock on his door, startling him. He jumped.

“It’s Christophe,” was the response from the other side.

“I’m coming,” Viktor called, rushing over to the door. He opened it, and immediately Chris was in his face, hands on his shoulders, shaking him roughly.

“What have you been  _ doing?  _ We need to leave, like, yesterday. Come on.” Then Chris was dragging him out the door by one of his arms. Somehow, Viktor managed to steal enough seconds to close and lock the room door.

_ Wait.  _ Did Yuuri ever take his clothes back?

“What happened to your hair? Oh, Mila is going to flip out. You know you weren’t supposed to get it wet, right?” Viktor opened his mouth to reply, but Chris was speaking quickly, frantically, not letting him get a word in. “Mila said you were going out for a walk last night but then it started raining and she called me, saying that she had made it all nice and that it  _ couldn’t  _ get wet because the gel holding it in place would stop working—”

“Listen, Chris, I’m sorry. Things got a little out of control last night.”

That made Chris stop in his tracks. They were near the elevators now. Reaching over, he pushed a button. “What do you mean when you say ‘crazy?’” he asked, his brows furrowed. “Did something happen to Makkachin? Are  _ you  _ hurt?” Just like that, he was pulling up the sleeves to Viktor’s dress shirt, examining his arms. “Who hurt you?”

“No one hurt me, Chris. That’s not what I meant.”

“What  _ do  _ you mean, then?” Chris asked, listing his head to one side. “If no one hurt you, then what could have happened that—” Suddenly, his face brightened, a grin taking over his lips. “Who did you sleep with?”

_ “No one,  _ Chris.”

Chris scrutinized him, excitement vanishing. “What happened?”

Viktor remembered what Yuuri had said about getting trouble if he told anyone, so he shook his head and said, “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

The elevator arrived at their floor. It opened with a ding, Chris and Viktor looking over at once.

Mila was standing in there, her eyes wide with terror. But then she looked over at them and her expression turned into one of anger. “You  _ idiots.” _ She pushed one of the buttons on the elevator, probably the one to the ground floor. She ushered them inside. “Come on, come on, the interview’s in fifteen minutes.” She glanced at her watch.  _ “Fourteen  _ minutes.”

Once everyone was inside the elevator and the doors slid shut Mila slapped Viktor over the back of his head, saying, “What have you been  _ doing?” _

“That’s what I asked!” Chris put in.

Mila ignored him. Gasping, she ran one of her hands through Viktor’s hair. “Damn it, Vitya, I told you not to ruin it. I’ll have to do some last minute work in the van on the way to Yu-topia.”

_ Yu-topia.  _ So  _ that  _ was the name of the place where Viktor was getting his interview done. He didn’t know what it was that had made him forget.

“Seriously, though,” Mila said, “what happened? You’re never this careless.”

“Apparently he’s not supposed to tell us,” Chris said. “I’m guessing it’s a secret? But I still think he slept with someone,” he grumbled.

“No, he’s not  _ you,”  _ Mila replied. Her eyes fell on Viktor’s, and they stayed that way, staring at each other, for a long time, before the arrived at their floor. She peeled her gaze away and grumbling curses in Russian, ushering him and Chris out of the elevator. She walked over and started talking to Isabella, who was standing in the lobby, obviously waiting for them.

Chris’s hand was on his back, coaxing him forward still, and the next few moments suddenly became a blur of getting things in order and getting into the van. Viktor didn’t get his sense back until he was inside the van, in the back, one of the crew members and Chris and Mila on either side of him, Mila experimenting with his hair. A hairbrush and some hairspray were rested in her lap, though Viktor wasn’t entirely sure where he had gotten them from.

The ride to the interview was smooth until it wasn’t, the van coming to an abrupt halt with the sudden slamming of the brakes. Viktor and the others would have flown forward if not for the fact that they were all wearing seatbelts.

Mila muttered a curse in Russian, obviously mad that her work was interrupted so crudely. Then, in English, she asked the driver, “What the hell?”

“There’s someone standing in the road,” was the reply.

Viktor leaned forward to get a closer look and, sure enough, there was a person standing in front of the van, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight. It seemed as if he was looking for someone, completely unfazed at the fact there was a van right in front of him.

The driver honked, which caught his attention. He looked over at them, his eyes dark, almost black, matching the color of his hair. His skin was caramel-colored, so Viktor guessed he must have been foreign.

“Get out of the road!” the driver screamed, and he did—he licked his lips and then he was gone, faster than Viktor could process, as if he had never been there at all.

“What the—?” The driver looked at Viktor through the rearview mirror, his puzzled expression matching how Viktor felt.

Mila and Chris were just as confused; but what Viktor was sure they didn’t know was the fangs on the man, the ones that matched Yuuri’s fangs. Viktor had caught them before he disappeared.

_ How many vampires live in this town? _

He didn’t want to know the answer, he decided, and swallowed down whatever it was that was gathering in the deepest pit of his stomach—fear? Disbelief? A mix of the two? It didn’t matter. He just wanted it to be gone. He couldn’t wait until he left town, leave and go somewhere that did  _ not  _ house supernatural creatures, somewhere that was normal.

However, he couldn’t help but worry about Yuuri and how he was doing. He hoped not saying anything about Yuuri was was enough to prevent him from getting into trouble with, well...he wasn’t sure of  _ what _ kind of people—vampires?—Yuuri could get into trouble with.

Mila’s eyes were on him the rest of the ride, watching him with her lips pursed and her face contorted into an expression he couldn’t quite read at the time, but he understood enough to get the message she was trying to send;  _ I’m on to you.  _ She knew there was more to Viktor waking up late to the interview that met the eye. Not to mention was was correct in one statement; he wasn’t normally so careless.

In spite of this, the ride was void of talk, everyone in the van falling into an uncomfortable silence. Nobody spoke up until they arrived at the onsen, and that was Chris, removing his seatbelt before the van even stopped moving and saying excitedly, “Time to get my  _ bath  _ on.”

“This isn’t about you,” Mila said, giving him an odd look. “This is about Viktor’s interview, remember?”

“Yeah, but how  _ long  _ is this interview going to last?” Chris asked. “I mean, I  _ should  _ b e able to have some time to—”

“No.”

Chris deflated. “Oh, you’re no fun,” he grumbled. Then he looked over at Viktor, begging for some type of support as he opened his door. “Come on, tell her I can enjoy myself while I’m here.”

Viktor grinned. “I might as well, too.”

Mila rolled her eyes and grumbled a few words about guys being impossible, but Viktor barely caught it. He was too busy taking in the onsen.

His eyes drank in the temple, the golden gates, how the entire place seemed to have been made for royalty. To heck if he knew, it might have. He hadn’t gotten any time to look at the history.

Not to his surprise, there were already paparazzi outside waiting for him, cameras and pictures of himself being forced into his face. For the most part, he waved them off, with help from Chris and Mila and his personal bodyguard, who had been sitting in the passenger seat in his van.

Viktor held in a breath and didn’t allow himself to let it out until he was inside, the voice of the people outside becoming less of a loud scream in his ears and more of a empty blur, a thing in his past he could move on from and forget about.

A young man in a fancy suit greeted them, bowing, and Viktor, not sure of what else to do, bowed in return. When he lifted his gaze, the man was smiling at him, large and bright. He asked him something in Japanese.

Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but found that he wouldn’t have known what to say. Instead, he shook his head, a silent signal he’d also used when he first met Yuuri, one that meant he didn’t know any Japanese. For the second time since he’d first arrived, he wished he did.

“Would it be English, then?” the man asked, and Viktor smiled back, nodding. “So be it. My name is Minami. I help out with things here.” He held out his hand and Viktor took it, shaking it. When they released, he added, I presume you’re Viktor NIkiforov. Today I’m supposed to be taking you to your interview.”

“Thank you,” Viktor told him, meaning it. He made a gesture to Mila and Chris, wordlessly telling them to wait until he was done. They both agreed—though Chris did so a bit reluctantly, probably having daydreams of soaking in a hot bath.

Only Viktor’s bodyguard followed behind. Minami led him down a long hall, his shoes clicking the ground as he walked, his hands held in front of himself in a formal manner, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. They walked was quiet, minus the clicking that seemed to be lulling Viktor to want to sleep, until MInami finally spoke, sounding a little more childish and excited than he had when he introduced himself.

“Famous people visit Yu-topia quite a bit, you know,” he said without looking at Viktor, eyes solely fixed on their destination. “Although, I must say, it’s an honor to have you here.”

“It’s an honor to be here,” Viktor corrected, his neck turning to and fro as he tried to take in everything at once. “This place is very lovely. However, there’s one thing…” He trailed off and Minami gave him a quick glance, willing him to continue. “My friend would like to...ah...rest here for a bit.”

“I’ll arrange it so,” Minami said; and just like that they both fell into silence. At last, he put in, “This temple was originally made for royalty, you see, over a hundred years ago.” So Viktor had been right about that. “One day, though…” MInami frowned as he continued. “The family that owned the temple disappeared. To this date no one knows what happened to them.”

Viktor frowned, too. “That’s unfortunate.” For some reason he felt as if he should be  _ knowing  _ something about that family, anything, even the smallest detail, but found that no recognition could be recalled.

His frown deepened. That couldn’t be right. There was nothing to know about this royal family. He had never been here before.

“Yes, very unfortunate,” Minami was saying, snapping Viktor out of his thoughts. “Ever since the disappearance of the family, this temple has been renovated many times, changed so much the old place is nothing more than a memory. Sometimes I wonder if there are descendants of that family out there, looking upon this place in shame. Doing things like this without the permission of the family would have been considered a great insult back then, after all.”  _ Click, click, click.  _ “Ah, we’re here.”

Viktor snapped his eyes up. They were standing in front a slide door that led into a room. Minami smiled at him, nodding, all before he broke into another bow. “Thank you,” he said, though Viktor didn’t know what it was that Viktor needed to be thanked for. He hadn’t done anything. If anyone deserved a thanks, it was whoever owned Yu-topia now for allowing him to come—and, of course, the missing family that had originally owned this place for it’s existence in the first place.

Minami opened the door for him and allowed him inside, wishing him well with his interview. Then the door was sliding shut and he was gone, leaving Viktor alone in the room with his bodyguard and a rather young-looking woman sitting in a chair—the interviewer—as well as a cameraman in the corner of the room, holding a rather large camera. Viktor sat down in the empty chair that was placed across from the woman.

The interview went along well enough, the questions being simple, ones that Viktor had heard all too many times before, things like, “What, do you think, is going to be the next step in your career?” and, “Is there anyone in particular you would like to thank for your success?” Viktor answered them easily, the words slipping out his lips in perfect practice, his hands folded in his lap and his expression rather stoic.

In spite of his grace, however, there was a lot on his mind, little thoughts that couldn’t seem to go away no matter how hard he tried to make them; most of these said thoughts directed at the man that they’d encountered on the street, the one who had fangs like Yuuri, as well as his encounter with Yuuri the night before.

He couldn’t understand how any of this was real.

“Ah, yes,” the interviewer was saying, moving onto her next question, and Viktor found that he had trailed off enough to forget about her being there altogether, “in regards to Yu-topia’s multiple-century transformation from the beautiful temple it once was to the famous tourist spot it is today...isn’t it extraordinary? If the royal family was still around today, how do you think they would view this transformation?”

Viktor tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “I...don’t know.” He took a second or two to ponder over his answer. “They might have liked it. After all, with the way it was built, they must have enjoyed a nice soak in the onsen.” He wasn’t entirely sure what made this question relevant to the ones before it, but he figured it best not to mull over it too much.

“Do you know much of the history of this place?”

I received a brief explanation, yes, but I don’t know anything apart from the family suddenly disappearing. It’s odd.”

The interviewer smiled wide, as if they weren’t talking about something relatively sad, her eyes flashing over to the camera for a split second before she returned her attention to Viktor. “Indeed it is. Now, onto other pressing matters…”

The rest of the interview passed by faster than it had beforehand, and in what felt like seconds Viktor was leaving the room, greeted by Minami, whose eyes were shining and enthusiastic. “Did it go well?” he asked, and Viktor nodded. “Excellent. I’ll take you to your friends now, if you don’t mind.”

They headed back to where they came from, though this time they walked past the area leading to the front entrance and to the area Viktor hadn’t gotten to see yet. It wasn’t until they were standing outside a bathroom that Viktor understood where they were, causing a grin to spread over his lips. Minami took him to another room to change, and Viktor thanked him.

When he walked into the hot, humid room, he was greeted by Chris, who threw his arms into the air and grinned widely, very close to matching Viktor’s own expression. “Isn’t this the  _ greatest?” _

Viktor placed his towel to the side and got into the water both in one swift movement; instantly he felt rejuvenated, the ache his muscles fading away until they were nothing. He threw his head back and let out a happy breath. “Yes, I’d say it is,” he replied.

“Mila wants us back in fifteen, so we’d better hurry up and enjoy this while we can,” Chris told him, though he still looked elated. “Hey, when you get old and ugly and your modeling career comes to an end, do you think we could come back here? It’s amazing. If this is heaven, I’m glad I’m dead.”

Viktor chuckled.  _ “That,”  _ he said, “can be arranged.”

For a while they sat there, simply enjoying the hot water and how pleasant it felt; but then Chris was shifting slightly, moving over into another corner and saying, “Isn’t it a bit scary, though, that the family that originally owned this place suddenly vanished all those years ago? Where do you think they went?”

“Who knows?” Viktor asked. He pursed his lips, curious, not for the first time. “Maybe they were in debt and needed to leave the country?” he offered.

Chris waved one of his hands in a dismissive manner. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said. “They were royalty, right? That means they have a lot of money—I mean, they  _ must  _ have if they got a place like this built. What could possibly make them lose that money?”   


“I’m just as confused by that story as you are.” Viktor remembered that he wasn’t supposed to get his hair wet then; but the interview was done, so he supposed it didn’t matter now, and he began to pull his braid apart, breaking it up with his fingers. “This sounds like something I would be hearing in a horror movie.”

Chris shrugged, his grin not wavering. “We could become ghost hunters.”

“What was the name of the family, by the way?” Viktor decided to ask, taking the ties that were in his hair and wrapping them around his wrists instead. With the clips, he reached over and placed them near his towel to be dealt with later.

“Um…” Chris pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought, probably trying to remember the answer. Actually, Viktor wasn’t sure if he even knew the answer altogether. What had compelled him to ask, though?

Sure enough, Chris’s face lit up at last and he snapped his fingers and said, “It was Katsuki, I think. At least, that’s what I’m sure one of the guys who works here told me.”

_ Katsuki.  _ For a second Viktor sat there, feeling nostalgic, like he had  _ heard  _ that name somewhere before. It was like he had met somebody…

Then it hit him. He stood up abruptly, surprising both himself and Chris, who jumped at the sudden action. He cast Viktor a concerned expression.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

_ “Yuuri.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I changed things up a bit, but I think it works (relatively) well? I dunno, tell me if you don't like it.
> 
> Next chapter promises Viktor and Yuuri talking. And talking and talking and talking.


	5. Neighbor of Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vampire's life wasn't an easy one.

Chris looked even more confused now. “Yuuri? What is that?”

“Not what.  _ Who.”  _ Viktor grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist, then took the hair clips and gripped them so tight in one hand that they dug into his palm. He turned on Chris, saying, “I have to go talk to him.”

Chris took the hint of urgency and got to his feet, too. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about or why you need to talk to them so badly,” he said, “but it sounds really serious and I should go with you.”

“Chris—” Viktor started, ready to protest, but his best friend was having none of it.

“Come on, Viktor,” Chris said. “Logically, I can’t let you wander around town on your own.”

“I’ll have Makkachin with me.”

Chris sighed. “Yes, and you’ll have  _ me  _ with you, too.”

Viktor would have argued until next week, but he felt a tugging his gut of sorts, something inside of him that told him he couldn’t waste anymore time here and he needed to leave  _ immediately.  _ In spite of his reasonable side telling him that he  _ didn’t  _ need to rush, that he needed to slow down and take things one step at a time, that he needed to reassess the situation and consider the details.

Was Katsuki a common last name? This could just be a coincidence and he was acting irrationally—but, on the other hand, Yuuri was a vampire. Who knew how old he was? The family had disappeared over one hundred years ago…

There was definitely no way this could be a coincidence.

Viktor noticed then that Chris was still staring at him, and he flinched—Chris’s expression said that, no, he was  _ not  _ going to back down, no matter what Viktor told him, and he was going, too. Only a true best friend would remain so dutiful.

But there was the promise Viktor had made to Yuuri. No one else was supposed to find out about Yuuri’s being a vampire.

There was no easy way out of this.

Just as fast, an idea formed in Viktor’s mind. Immediately, upon the second the idea came into existence, he reprimanded himself for conceiving such a thing. However, he also didn't think he had any other option.

He sighed, his fingers twitching uncertainly. “Alright, you can come along,” he told Chris. “We just need to get dressed first.”

With that they headed for the dressing room—and Viktor ran to one of the stalls and got dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing before in record speed, all before casting a wistful glance in the direction of where his companion was getting dressed. His foot tapping the ground once, hesitating, a turned on his heels and burst out the doors while Chris seemed to be preoccupied.

He ran out of Yu-topia as fast as his legs would carry him, feet slapping the ground merciless. There were people yelling in his general direction, he knew; he was sure he heard Minami at some point, asking him what was wrong, and then Mila, though what came out of her was more of a startled surprise and his name.  _ “Vitya.” _

Chest filled with guilt, he ignored her. He burst out the front doors and into the street, looking back only once, but it had only been for a split second so he wasn't able to make out much.

He couldn’t believe he was doing. The full gravity of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders now and  _ oh God  _ he couldn't  _ believe  _ he had just abandoned his  _ best friend  _ and was  _ running in the street  _ just because he had heard a last name that so happened to be the last name of someone who was a vampire; he was literally running like he had never run before to see a  _ vampire. _

He panted as he rounded a corner, the muscles in his legs beginning to burn like they had never burned before. He couldn’t...he couldn’t remember the last time he had run like this.

Actually, he didn’t think he had run like this ever in his life. This was a first.

He arrived at the house where Makkachin was being held and knocked on the door with a flourish, glancing behind his shoulder as if to make sure no one was following him. Of course, he knew no one was, taking into consideration he had made sure of that some time ago. The owner of the house—a friend of Viktor’s manager—answered the door, looking tired and confused. Right. It was early in the morning.

Before Viktor could even ask the words, Makkachin was bounding out the door and jumping into his arms, her front paws resting on his chest. She licked his face, a happy hello, and barked in greeting. Viktor scratched her under one of her ears and whispered, “You ready to go hunt for Yuuri?” He said it quietly so the other person wouldn’t be able to hear. Speaking of which—

Viktor thanked the now-concerned-looking house owner and was on his way with a wave. Makkachin was already bounding ahead excitedly, and he strained to catch up with her, yelling her name and telling her to slow down for his sake.

They ran ahead for a while, Viktor wondering where she was taking him. At last, she stopped on the side of one street, which was when Viktor realized that he was, in fact, lost. He blinked and looked around the area. Nobody was here. This was probably a quieter part of town.

He looked down at Makkachin, who was staring ahead at nothing, her short tail wagging excitedly and her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She had to have been tired from all that running, but, if she was, she didn’t show it. Instead she raised her head and let out a low howl.

Viktor had never heard her  _ howl  _ before.

“What is it?” Viktor asked her, leaning down and placing a hand on the base of her neck. She responded by leaning into the touch. “Is he here? Did you find him?”

Makkachin turned her head towards him and growled deep in her throat.  Viktor wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it was probably a yes, right?

“Where is he, then?” Viktor asked, namely to himself. He lifted his gaze and searched the area a second time. Still, he and Makkachin were the only ones there. It was ominously silent, so much so that Viktor audibly shivered. Makkachin must have sensed his discomfort, because she sighed out and leaned against him reassuringly.

Then, just as quickly, she tensed up—like she had done when they were at the beach—and began growling, the nails on her paws digging into the concrete. She was glaring ahead at nothing, crouching down as if she were ready to pounce. Viktor got onto his knees and wrapped his arms around her, whispering things into her ear and trying to calm her down, to no avail; there was something wrong.

She had never acted this way around Yuuri.

A cold gust of wind blasted into him, turning his blood to ice and freezing his bones in place. He couldn’t seem to move anything except his head, and when he did his gaze met another one, dark eyes he was sure he had seen before.

It was the man they had almost run over earlier.

Makkachin whimpered; she lowered her head, no longer tense. She nosed the palm of one of Viktor’s hands.

The man eyes were wide, Viktor noticed. He looked over his shoulder, as if  _ he  _ was scared at something. Then he looked back down at Viktor and said, “You...You’re not supposed to be here. How did you get here?” His words were coming out in a rush. “You really need to leave.”

“I’m lost,” Viktor replied honestly. Stupidly.

The man—vampire, Viktor reminded himself—ran a hand through his hair. “I should have guessed,” he said. He looked down at Makkachin, who shrank away under his gaze. “Listen, I’ll take you out of here, just—just don’t come back.”

“I know what you are,” Viktor blurted suddenly, without even really meaning to. The man seemed to flinch back a little at that, his mouth hung open, fangs exposed. Viktor stared at them for a moment before he added, “You’re a vampire.”

The man shifted from foot to foot. “How do you know that?” he asked.

Viktor ignored the question, settling on asking one of his own. “What’s your name?”

“Phichit,” was the reply, after a moment or so of hesitation. Phichit lowered his brows. “What about you? Who  _ are  _ you? How do you know about this place?”

“She lead me here,” Viktor said, petting Makkachin on the head. She closed her eyes pleasurably at the touch but still shivered in fear nonetheless. He couldn’t blame her. He was terrified out of his wits, too. “And my name is Viktor. I’m...I’m from Russia. I’m just visiting the area.”

Phichit examined him for a moment, scrutinizing him. It almost felt as if he was searching for the smallest hint of a lie in Viktor; an eye twitch, nervous sweats. But, after a moment, he seemed to be satisfied, relaxing just a bit. His frown deepened in spite of that. “Are you a Hunter?”

With the way he had said the word ‘hunter,’ like it was something of great importance, Viktor had no doubt it had some kind of capitalization to it. He shook his head. “No,” he replied without hesitation. “I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Good. Then you’re not that bad, I suppose.” Phichit gave him a small smile, though Viktor could tell the action was forced. “You  _ are  _ still going to have to leave, however,” he added on after a moment. “Come on, I’ll lead you back into the main part of town.” He took a step forward.

This caused Makkachin to shrink away more. But her curiosity got the best of her because, hesitantly, she moved towards him and began to sniff his leg. Phichit didn’t flinch. In fact, he moved his hand down, slowly, and patted her head a single time. She leaned up and nuzzled his fingers.

Viktor couldn’t help but smile at the sight. If Makkachin was getting over her fear and beginning to trust him, then he was sure this Phichit character couldn’t be so bad. This was what it had been like with Yuuri.

_ Wait. _

Viktor remembered why he had even come out here in the first place. Getting to his feet, he allowed Makkachin a few more seconds of becoming comfortable with the vampire before he said, “I was actually looking for someone. I think you might know him.” Yuuri  _ had  _ mentioned having a fellow vampire friend, after all.

Phichit eyed him uncertainly. “Who would that be?” he asked, though, based on the tone of his voice, Viktor was sure he already knew the answer.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, louder than he had intended to; and, when a cold breeze of air came upon him once again, he turned on his heels.

Sure enough, Yuuri was standing there. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and he squinted at Viktor, like he couldn’t see too well without them.

He said lifelessly, “You called?”

Makkachin bounded away from Phichit and practically tackled Yuuri to the ground as she had done with Viktor not long ago, pressing her face gleefully against his and giving him a loving dog kiss here and there. Yuuri laughed at the contact. “Hey, I missed you, too, girl!” She barked in agreement.

Not soon after, Makkachin moved to stand between he and Viktor and sat down, staring at Yuuri expectantly. Yuuri was smiling, but, once he glanced up and noticed Viktor’s expression, the said smile fell away as fast as it had come. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

"What do you mean?” Yuuri and Phichit both questioned at once. Viktor had almost forgotten about Phichit’s being there.

Viktor furrowed his brows. “You never told me your family used to own the onsen in town. You never told me you were royalty.”

Yuuri’s face fell. His mouth hung open in shock. Viktor turned to see Phichit’s reaction; he fared no better, one hand clasped over his mouth and his eyes wide and scared. Makkachin leaned down and buried her head in her front paws, obviously being able to sense the tension.

“How...how do you know about that?” Yuuri was the first to speak, both his hands falling in his hair. Then he paused, coming to a realization, and he muttered something under his breath in Japanese. “Oh—Oh, my God. I messed up.”

Phichit stepped forward, passing Viktor until he was at Yuuri’s side. “What did you do?”

Yuuri replied, not ripping his gaze away from Viktor’s. “I told you my last name when we were at the bar. I—I didn’t mean to...do that. Oh, no. I can’t believe this is happening.” He screwed his eyes shut. “Listen, Viktor,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes and glaring down at his feet, “you can’t tell anyone about that. If anyone found out anyone from my family was still alive, they would know about me being…”

“I told you already, I’m not going to rat you out. Besides, I’m supposed to be leaving Hasetsu in a few days, anyhow,” Viktor pointed out. “The odds of me ever coming back here are astronomically slim.” He didn’t quite understand what it was about that last part that made his chest feel heavy, as if he were carrying a ton of bricks on his chest.

Yuuri sighed. “The thing is,” he said, his words coming out in hushed tones, “I’m not entirely sure I can trust you with this information.”

Viktor froze. “You’re going to kill me?”

Phichit paused at that, too, then leaned forward and whispered something in Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri shook his head and whispered something else in return, something that caused Phichit to shrug and turn away. In a second, he was gone, leaving Viktor and Yuuri by themselves...with Makkachin there, too, of course.

Makkachin barked in the direction Phichit had disappeared in all before returning into the feeble position she had been in prior, face in her paws. She shook a bit, which caused Viktor to rub her back, letting her know he was there. Yuuri watched them for a long time, not saying anything, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Viktor was the first to break the silence. “What happened to your family?” he asked quietly. Yuuri shook his head a second time. Obviously that was a sensitive topic. “You’re the only one that’s still around?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said. “Unfortunately. I didn’t make it in time.” He waved a hand dismissively, indicating that was all he was going to elaborate on the matter. “I had to fake my own death, too, you know. Nobody could figure out that I was still around. Even now I don’t want to have my last name associated with anything or anyone. That’s why I need you to not say anything. The fact that I was idiotic enough to tell you it at the bar was a mistake on my part.”

“I wish I could help you,” Viktor said. A great amount of sadness filled his chest. He couldn’t possibly imagine how hard it must be for Yuuri, being the only person alive in his family. And alive for an eternity, at that. “You’re in danger, aren’t you? That’s why nobody can know you’re a vampire.”

Yuuri nodded. “More and more Hunters have been springing up over the past few decades,” he replied. “They’re very good at hiding their identities. If they were to find out any of us were still around…” He trailed off and kicked at some dirt on the ground.

“They’d kill you.”

“Brutally so,” Yuuri replied, his gaze remaining fixated on the ground as if there were something interesting there—yes, indeed, that was a  _ particularly  _ nice pothole near his right foot. “Me and Phichit are the only ones still around here, though we prefer to remain isolated. Some Hunters are exceptionally skilled at sniffing us out, so we need to be extra careful.” He laughed a little. “You know...when Makkachin sniffed me out at the beach—”

As if reacting to the sound of her name, Makkachin lifted her head and barked, all before striding over to Yuuri and standing at his feet. She curled up against one of his legs, letting out little sounds of content. Yuuri smiled down at her but didn’t otherwise response. Viktor smiled, too, finding Makkachin’s trust in him quite adorable.

Yuuri shook his head, snapping himself out of some sort of trance, and said, “When Makkachin sniffed me out at the beach, for a second I had been scared that you were a Hunter and she was trained to, you know,  _ hunt.”  _ He spat out the word as if it were a curse. “But now I can assume that you aren’t. Right?”

“I promise you I’m not a Hunter,” Viktor assured him. “I’m not sure how I would even be able to kill vampires—well, I mean, maybe apart from some of the things I saw in movies.” Yuuri laughed at that. “I can guess that the bit about vampires turning to dust upon exposure to sunlight isn’t true.”

Yuuri waved one of his hands in a  _ sort of  _ gesture. “Some of us are better at handling it than others. The thing is,” he explained, and cleared his throat, ready to go out on a tangent, “when we...turn...our senses are heightened greatly. You know how your eyes burn when you look at the sun without sunglasses? It’s like that for us, but tenfold—and the burning feeling is spread throughout our body. But it’s a feeling you would be able to get used to depending on how much time you spend outside during the day and how strong you are.”

He was quiet a moment more, then lowered his head and shielded his eyes with a hand, embarrassed. “Sorry, I got carried away there,” he mumbled. “I, personally, prefer to walk around at night rather than the day, but as of late I’ve gotten out more and more often in your waking hours in order to find...nourishment.”

_ Nourishment.  _ Viktor had to sustain a laugh at Yuuri’s use of the word. He knew very well what Yuuri  _ meant  _ was looking for some rodent or other to kill and suck the blood out of. Viktor himself had witnessed this before; and the night prior, at that. The bloody memory was still implanted in the crevices of his mind.

“I actually have something else I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind,” Viktor said, albeit reluctantly. “Something a little more serious.” Yuuri’s expression turned grave but nodded anyway, encouraging him to go on. “When you said you were going to protect me… I’m leaving town soon. Would you be able to come and help me in the event of some sort of danger when I’m far away? How far away would be considered  _ too  _ far?” He needed to know.

Yuuri eyes’s shifted, seeming to turn a darker shade of brown. For a moment or so he was quiet, not saying anything, but then he replied, “God, Viktor, I’ll try.” His voice grew soft, the reiteration coming out as no more than a small whisper. “I promise I’ll try.”

Viktor couldn’t help but picture in his mind of being cornered by some...well, some _ thing.  _ And in this mental image he would scream Yuuri’s name, asking for help  _ oh God, please, Yuuri, don’t let me die,  _ but after a moment he would realize that Yuuri was, in fact,  _ not  _ going to come to his rescue, and he was going to die. He was going to die alone and scared.

Quickly, he shook his head wildly from side to side, his hair whipping in his face, attempting to wipe this image from his head.  _ Make it go away.  _ When he brought himself back to reality, he noticed Yuuri was staring at him, his expression unreadable. He would have said something, anything to break the silence, if it wasn’t Yuuri who had stepped forward first, hands twitching at his sides.

"Do you trust me?” he asked.

Viktor pondered over this question.  _ Did  _ he trust Yuuri? He wasn’t sure.

Well, Makkachin seemed to trust him; and if Makkachin was sure that Viktor wasn’t a threat, then Viktor couldn’t find any reason to think he was.

"Yes,” Viktor decided, confident. “I trust you.”

Yuuri nodded. “Good,” he said. He took another few steps forward, which caused Makkachin to jump up. She trotted over to stand beside him, leaning into his side and closing her eyes, taking comfort in his company.Yuuri placed a hand on her head and added, “I’m going to show you something, but you can’t freak out on me, okay?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s not here,” Yuuri told him, fast, like that needed to be specified. Before Viktor could process it, Yuuri had moved forward until they were standing about an inch or so apart.

Then he held up one of his hands in front of Viktor’s face and snapped his fingers. Immediately Viktor felt his knees buckle up from under him and he collapsed, hitting the ground headfirst—but, for some reason, it didn’t hurt. His blurred vision focused on Yuuri’s shoes in the second prior to it being replaced by black nothing.

“It’ll be fine,” Yuuri said, and he slipped out of consciousness.

When he woke up, he had a massive headache—so unlike how it had been like when Yuuri knocked him out last night, whereupon he had had a peaceful, uneventful rest. Now it was painful, agonizing, like his brain was overworking itself and his head was going to explode.

But that didn’t happen, and he opened his eyes. Things took a moment to adjust, but he knew where he was via the feeling of sand trickling between his fingers and the smell of the ocean, salty and comforting.

They were at the beach.

“Viktor. Are you alright?” A hand was on his shoulder then, another circling around to rest on his back. Viktor felt himself being lifted up into a sitting position. His body screamed in protest at the movement, muscles aching and head pounding. “God, Viktor—I think I went too far this time. Do you need a moment to relax?”

There was barking and Viktor could feel Makkachin at his side, nuzzling her face into his cheek, whimpering lightly; making sure he was okay, too. Viktor sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to recollect himself.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say at last, opening his eyes. He had to close them again, though, as it didn’t help the pain reverberating throughout his being. He muttered a curse under his breath and leaned backwards, lying down again. Yuuri’s hands shifted so they were on his shoulder instead, coaxing him into a more comfortable position. “Why does it hurt so bad?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri replied honestly. “It’s never had this kind of effect on anyone before. They usually just go to sleep…” Viktor couldn’t see his face but was sure he was frowning thoughtfully. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

“Everything.”

Yuuri fell silent and his hands moved off Viktor’s shoulders, much to Viktor’s dismay.  _ No, come back.  _ “Hold on, I think I have a solution.” And, for the next for minutes, nothing happened; but Viktor soon felt his head being lifted up and liquid—water, he knew—was gently being poured in his mouth. Within seconds, the aching began to fade and he sat up, rubbing the last bit of the headache away.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with Yuuri and Makkachin examining him closely; both of them staring right at him with their heads listed slightly to one side. Viktor would have laughed at the sight if it wasn’t for the intense amount of pain he had just been in.

“What was that?” he asked, referring to the water he had just had. He took note of one of Yuuri’s hands, which was wet, probably from the water. “The last time I checked, water doesn’t cure pain.”

Yuuri wiped his hand on his pants and said, “There was a...trick my friend once taught me. It involves only a little bit of water, and it manages to relax the nerves and muscles. Or something along those lines.” He blinked. “I don’t remember the details exactly. But that doesn’t matter right now.” He leaned forward. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” Viktor said. “Thank you.”

Makkachin barked happily.

“What was it you wanted to show me?” Viktor asked Yuuri, who was smiling down at Makkachin with something along the lines of longing. However, he looked up upon being addressed.

Yuuri gestured around at their surroundings. They were at the beach, definitely, Viktor could clearly see that now. Everything was as it should have been; the waves crashing on the shore, the sand white and soft, the crabs scurrying along somewhere nearby, and shells littered here and there, ready to be picked up and pressed to someone’s ear.

It was beautiful, no doubt, but Viktor could not see the significance. He gave Yuuri a confused look.

“I used to come down here all the time with my family,” Yuuri explained, getting to his feet. Viktor didn’t notice until then that he was barefoot, the legs of his pants rolled up to almost his knees. He brushed some sand off them as he said, “It’s still my favorite place to go in town. When I saw you and your crew here yesterday I...I just wasn’t sure what to think. I had to see what you were up to.”

“I’m sorry.” Viktor meant it. He would hate to ruin a place so special to somebody. Especially if that somebody was an immortal that could easily kill other people...but Viktor knew Yuuri would never do that. After all, Yuuri himself had said that he didn’t hurt humans.

Anymore. But Viktor brushed that last part to the side.

“So where’s this thing you wanted to show me?” he settled on asking.

Yuuri spun around on his heels without responding, staring off to the other side of the beach. Makkachin nudged Viktor’s side, urging him to follow, and he did; he jumped to his feet and ran after Yuuri, the vampire not turning around to check to see if he was following.

Yuuri stopped once they were at the rocks somewhere closer to the sure. He got down onto his knees, still not acknowledging Viktor, and reached under one of the rocks, weathered and full of holes due to erosion and other natural elements.

A few seconds later and he was pulling his arms out, holding a small journal. The cover looked as if it used to be a tannish color, but it was stained from any water that might have snuck its way under the rock. From the view on the side, Viktor could see the pages inside were equally as stained.

“This...this is…” Viktor leaned down a little so he could get a better look. Yuuri turned it in his hands, letting Viktor see every inch of the outside. “This is yours?”

Yuuri shook his head. “It belonged to a friend of mine. She wrote a lot.” He placed the journal in the sand. “You see, back then, women weren’t expected to do much of anything besides getting married, having children, and doing tedious housework like clean and do the laundry. But she was rebellious, in a way, because she liked writing. She sneaked it whenever she could, in spite of how I always told her it was risky. I haven’t looked at what’s inside yet.”

“Oh.” Viktor could see tears forming in his eyes, and wasn’t sure of how to respond other than rub soothing circles into his back. “What do you think is inside?”

“Probably stories. She was great at storytelling.” Yuuri sighed. “This is the only thing I have leftover from those days, and I don’t think I can keep it here any longer. The beach has ruined it enough as it is.” Lifting it, he brushed some of the sand that had gotten stuck to it; and then he was holding it out to Viktor. “Listen, I need you to take it.”

“What?”

Yuuri smiled. “I told you that Hunters are on the rise. If I wind up getting killed, I need to know that it’s not just rotting away here. I need to know it’s in safe hands.”

“I won’t read it,” Viktor promised as Yuuri pressed it into his hands. Makkachin leaned in and sniffed at the journal.

“Please don’t. At least, not until I do.” Yuuri frowned. “Well, until I get the courage to.”

Viktor tucked the journal under one arm. “I’m sorry you had to lose so much. I can’t possibly imagine what that would feel like.”

“Some part of me wishes I had died, too,” Yuuri admitted. Those words were enough to cause such a great amount of shock in Viktor that he actually cringed. What a horrible thing to wish for. “Though I suppose I  _ did  _ die. Just...not in the way that makes you go away forever.”

“In the way that brings you back and makes you  _ live _ forever.”

“Unfortunately,” Yuuri agreed. Then, “I figure this is as good a time as any to formally apologize for dragging you into all of this. You weren't supposed to figure out about me or Phichit, but there’s no turning back now. I’m trusting you to keep this a secret, for the betterment of the both of us.”

Viktor adjusted the journal under his arm, asking, “Are the Hunters the only ones you need to worry about, though? You mentioned something about getting into trouble if I told anyone about you. Did you just mean in regards to a Hunter figuring out that you're hanging around here?”

“No, of course not.” Yuuri replied easily, as if the answer should be obvious. “I have superiors. Technically, I’m not allowed to be hanging around here anymore. I chose to stay. And, when Phichit came here, he stayed, too, in order to keep me company.”

“What happened to everyone else? This implies there were vampires that used to live here.” It wasn't until the words had slipped past Viktor’s lips that he realized he’d messed up. All the vampires that used to live in Hasetsu had died.

Yuuri seemed to catch unto his train of thought. “When the Hunters came through this town, they took everyone. This was a decade or two before I turned, to my understanding. All I know is that I was told this place is unsafe for my kind—but, if it  _ was,  _ I probably wouldn't be standing here talking to you right now.”

“Who turned you?” The question came out instantaneously, much to Viktor’s horror. He managed to add on, quickly, “No, I didn't mean to—”

“It’s alright,” Yuuri said. “The vampire that turned me is still around today, if that's what you’re trying to ask.”

He was avoiding the question, but Viktor couldn't blame him. Viktor would avoid the question if he’d been asked it, too.

Yuuri snapped his head up, the action so sudden and so fierce that Viktor couldn't help but jump as well, the journal he was holding almost slipping out of his grasp. He caught it just in time, though, grasping onto it with the tips of his fingers, then placing it where it’d been under his arm again.

Makkachin bounded on ahead, excited.

The tension in Yuuri’s form disintegrated. “Oh, your friends.”

Sure enough, Mila and Christophe were running towards him, clear as day. Even from a distance, Viktor could tell they were exhausted. Makkachin ran around their legs, happy to see them.

Mila was the first to speak as they approached, her red hair flying behind her.  _ “Vitya,”  _ she gasped, vying for air. “I knew you would be here.”

“Well,  _ I  _ was the one that suggested it,” Chris cut in. He came to halt a second after she did and wiped sweat off his brow. “Being here reminds Viktor of home, so it would only make sense.”

Mila rolled her eyes but didn't otherwise respond to him. She was too busy sizing up Viktor. “Vitya,” she whined, “you have sand in your  _ hair.”  _ As she finished her statement, her gaze flew over to Yuuri—who, to Viktor’s surprise, didn't disappear last minute. “Hello,” she said, wary.

“Hello,” Yuuri replied.

Chris looked dumbfounded. “You ran out on me to canoodle with one of the natives?” he asked. “And here I thought  _ I  _ was the crazy one.”

Yuuri furrowed his brows. “I’m afraid not. We’re only friends.” Expressionless, he held out one of his hands in polite gesture. “I’m Yuuri K—” He cut himself off. “My name is Yuuri.”

He shook hands with both Mila and Chris in turn, and though they both introduced themselves they seemed to be put off by him. Viktor couldn't blame them; he’d felt that way when he first met Yuuri, too.

“What was the big deal that you needed to rush out, anyway?” Chris asked, and it took Viktor a second to realize that was being addressed to him. “Things look to be pretty tame here.”

“He offered to show me around town and I forgot about it,” Viktor covered up. Yuuri shot him a gracious look. “We’ve been relaxing here for a little bit.”

“Either way,” Mila said, “you have to give us a heads up next time. I nearly had a heart attack. And I’m pretty sure Isabella is back at the hotel having one now.” She turned to Yuuri. “It was nice to meet you, but we need to take him back to the hotel.”

Yuuri smiled. “Same to you. I’m sorry for causing you worry. I really have terrible timing when it comes to arranging things, really. I had forgotten about Viktor’s interview.”

“That’s quite alright,” Chris told him. “Viktor’s fine and that’s all that matters.”

Viktor couldn’t agree more. He gave Yuuri a goodbye wave and a “Have a nice day,” and left with Mila and Chris, Makkachin following not far behind.

Before they got in the van, Viktor cast a final glance at the beach, which was some ways away from where they were, but close enough so he could make out a few details.

Yuuri was gone.

* * *

 

The room was completely silent and void of light except for the dim, pale yellow emitting from the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. But even that was withered and old; it occasionally flickered, leaving pure and utter darkness in the light’s absence.

There was nothing there. No one, not even a single sign of life. Not a mouse scurrying along the ground or a fly fluttering around in search of someone’s food to perch on.

Then there was a loud banging coming from the door that lead into a room, followed by a string of curses. More crashing. The force of it all caused the lightbulb to tremble. Eventually, it fell off and hit the ground, causing the sound of glass shattering.

A second later and the door opened. Someone—a male—was pushed into the room, being thrown backwards so far that his feet came close to brushing against the light bulb's remains. He balanced himself just before that happened, however, throwing his arms out on either side.

Another figure entered, this one younger but also male. He sheathed a knife from off his belt of tools—tools that no regular person would carry. He stopped forward and approached the other figure, the figure which was cowering now.

“P—Please, have mercy!”

In less than a second he was pushed against the wall, the knife pressed close to his throat without any actual pressure being applied. The holder of said weapon didn't respond to such pitiful begging, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I—I didn’t do anything, I—”

“Didn't do anything?  _ Didn't do anything?”  _ the man with the knife echoed, incredulous. He laughed. “You’ve been hurting people”—the knife was now being pressed against the other’s throat— _ “killing  _ people. That kind of behavior is unforgivable. I’m simply taking your life”—blood was being drawn, pooling out onto the knife—“as recompense for all the other lives you took.”

The man being pressed against the wall whimpered. In the darkness, if one squinted, they would be able to vaguely make out the fangs on him; sharp fangs stained with blood that was not his own. This blood also stained most of his face and his clothes. “It’s something I  _ have  _ to do,” he insisted. “I can’t control it!”

“That’s enough.”

The knife plunged in, slicing across his throat. He fell to the ground, clutching his neck as if that were going to stop the bleeding. But it was no use, because next the knife was being brought into his chest. He screamed, then stilled.

The man with the knife kept his expression stoic, void of emotion. He put his knife back on his belt and turned, leaving the room and the dead body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here come dat plot boi
> 
> Ahahaha there are still character tags that I need to add but won't right away because I like to keep it mysterious. >:D


	6. Neighbor of Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, just like that, the wheels started turning.

The next few days in Hasetsu were spent in a sort of quiet bliss—something that completely countered all that Viktor had been through when he first arrived in town. Things that he honestly hadn’t expected to go through altogether but, hey, wasn't life supposed to be unpredictable in that sense?

But this was different. Much, much different.

Not only had he found out that vampires were, in fact, real—as in, _really_ real, not just in the movies, but the actual, waking world—but so were vampire _hunters;_ he knew it was none of his concern and he had no place in any of it, but _Yuuri_ was directly correlated, and Viktor found himself wondering about Yuuri often, hoping he was alright.

The journal Yuuri had given him was tucked away safely, somewhere Viktor was sure nobody would think to find it. That is, if someone would be searching for this particular journal in the first place.

He and Yuuri still kept in contact with one another, and on random occasions Yuuri would pop up in Viktor’s hotel room at the most unexpected—and, to say the least, _worst—_ times. It was a day after their talk at the beach that Viktor was getting into his pajamas, and, when he turned around, Yuuri was standing there, looking horrified. The vampire had promptly turned away and covered his eyes, muttering apologies under his breath.

Besides that incident (which they had agreed must never be spoken of again), Yuuri had gotten to know Christophe, Mila, Isabella, and a handful of the other crew members. And swimmingly so, at that. Isabella would chat idly with him and Mila about her approaching wedding and Chris would attempt to take him to a club or a bar, to which Yuuri would politely decline.

The best parts of those few days, though, were the much quieter times when Yuuri would sit in his hotel room and they would talk and talk about anything and everything. Yuuri brought up minimal discussion of his family, and Viktor couldn't blame him for that; he did, however, mention the friend that had written the journal once or twice, and at the first time Viktor had gotten the said friend’s name memorized.

 _Minako._ Of course, Viktor didn't know her or really anything about her, considering she was long dead. But based on how Yuuri spoke of her with such reverence, speaking of her as if she were a member of his family when she wasn't, Viktor could only assume she had been a good person.

Another name had been thrown into the mix, as well. _Mari._ When Yuuri had said this name it had been a pure accident, if him slapping both of his hands over his mouth and his eyes widening were any indication. Viktor wasn't quite sure who she was to him, at least not yet, but he wasn't going to ask, either. It was none of his business.

But, still, Viktor couldn't get over how sad Yuuri had looked when he had said Mari’s name. As soon as he had said it he paused and stared down on the ground, biting down on his lower lips and making some sound deep in a throat like a puppy that had just been kicked.

Viktor had wanted to reach out and comfort him at that time, but all he could think to do was reach out and place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. Yuuri seemed to have appreciated the kind gesture, but an uncomfortable silence settled between them nonetheless.

As for the journal Yuuri had given him, Viktor stayed true to his promise and didn't read out of respect for privacy—except for maybe in the one instance when Viktor had dropped it while putting it in a drawer. It had fallen to the ground and landed on the ground with it open to one of the first few pages. Viktor had picked it up and closed it fast enough, but as he did so he couldn't help but catch a few words.

_We are in danger—_

That was it.

Viktor didn't think it was part of a story.

He chose not to mention it to Yuuri, on the account that Yuuri might get the wrong idea and think he was reading through the journal.

And, if there was one thing he didn't want to do at this point, it was upset a vampire.

Even _if_ that vampire was his newfound friend and he was ninety-nine percent sure said vampire would never do anything to hurt him.

It was four days after the interview when Viktor got the news from his manager and he was supposed to be leaving town. The flight had already been arranged for that; they’d have to leave town as soon as possible, because of an incoming snowstorm on its way. Viktor wasn’t sure it would _actually_ snow at this time of year, though.

But, from what he’d seen this past week, he figured that anything was possible.

He was packing his bags—a long, painful process that consisted of taking out his miscellaneous assortment of clothes and organizing them into a series of piles varying on their color, type, and fabrication, all before arranging them in separate duffel bags—when Yuuri arrived. He didn’t flinch. He was well enough used to Yuuri popping out of nowhere to not be surprised by it anymore.

“Oh.” Yuuri registered what he was doing before he could even explain it himself. “You’re leaving.”

When Viktor turned to look at him, he saw that the vampire’s expression was contorted into a sort of pained grimace.

“Yes, tonight,” he said, ignoring the pain it managed to cause _him,_ as well. “Apparently it’s going to snow. We have to leave or else we’re going to be snowed in.” He folded a dress shirt as he spoke, making a small square and adding it to a pile of his other dress shirts. (What a tedious process; but it was also a habit, one he couldn't break.)

Yuuri’s face shifted then, turning into something less upset. A small smile graced his lips, but only for a second, lasting long enough so Viktor couldn't barely notice it as it disappeared and transformed back into a thoughtful frown. “Where is your next destination, in that case?” he asked.

“Italy,” Viktor replied. “Apparently someone’s offering to sponsor me there, as well as hold a photo shoot for a magazine. I don't know who it is yet.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful. I hope you have fun.” And there it was again, the slightest of smiles on Yuuri’s face. There was something he knew that he wasn't telling Viktor.

However, it fell away a second time as Yuuri moved to stand next to Viktor, getting down on his knees in front of the bed and plucking an article of clothing from the large pile that had been freshly ripped out of the dresser, ready to be refolded. “Let me help,” he offered.

They folded clothes in quiet for a long time, the only sound being that of a light hum coming from Yuuri to a song that Viktor didn't recognize; but something inside of him compelled him to hum along as well, and he did.

“It’s been nice getting to know you,” Viktor said at last, breaking the silence. “But there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Yuuri folded black jeans as he replied, “Go on.”

“Would...would you be able to hear me from Italy?” Another thought occurred to Viktor then. “Would you be able to hear me from Russia.”

He already knew the answer—both questions warranted the same response—but it still disappointed him when he heard it, killing two birds with one stone. “No.” Yuuri sighed, placing the jeans down in a pile neatly. His hands shook as he went to grab another article of clothing. “I’m sorry, Viktor, but… That’s too far away. I can hear well, but not _that_ well.”

“That’s fine,” Viktor said, then sighed; the sound was low and. Yuuri must have picked up on it, because the frown that had been previously planted on his face promptly deepened.

He didn't say anything, though, and Viktor continued, “I kind of figured. I mean, you may be a supernatural creature of the night, but I know I can't expect that much. You said it yourself; you have your own things to deal with.” He forced, trying to lighten the mood by adding, “Anyhow, I think I should be fine. Once I leave I'm sure everything is going to go back to normal.”

“As normal as it can be, I suppose,” Yuuri said after a moment, tearing his gaze away from Viktor’s and grabbing another pair of pants. “Well, with a poodle that's able to sniff out vampires and all.”

“I still don't quite understand that.” Viktor shook his head, feeling a little baffled. “How is it possible? Didn't you tell me that vampires don't have scents?”

Yuuri seemed to consider his answer. “I _did_ say that, but it was a bit of an exaggeration. We _do_ have scents, or else we wouldn't be able to keep track of one another.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just...not supposed to be noticeable to humans. Or animals.” He paused. “I think Makkachin is special.”

 _Of course she’s special,_ Viktor wanted to say. _She’s the greatest poodle in the world._ But, instead, he said, “In what way? I mean, what do you think that means for her? For me?”

“Has she ever acted”—here Yuuri stopped himself mid sentence, waving one of his hands in a circling motion as if he were trying to find the correct terminology—”unusual around anyone before? Like how she reacted around me and Phichit?”

“I don’t think so…” But even as Viktor said this, slow and considering, he knew he was wrong. There had been that one time when they were in the States and Makkachin had been growling at a teenage girl—oh, and maybe not long ago when they had been in Australia, too…

 _Oh my God._ Makkachin had been directing Viktor towards vampires for who _knows_ how long and Viktor had never noticed.

He leaned back and rubbed his forehead, threading his fingers through his silver locks desperately, doing anything to distract himself from the sudden headache that had assaulted him in that moment. This was...insane. This was unbelievable.

Makkachin was a vampire hunter.

How had Viktor not noticed this?

Yuuri was at his side in under a second, using his hands to grab Viktor’s wrists and stop him before he could begin to tug out his own hair. Viktor thanked him quietly, but his gaze was fixated on the ground, lost in thought.

“Did anyone own Makkachin prior to you?” Yuuri asked carefully. “Are you her first owner?”

Viktor nodded. “I’ve had her since she was a pup. There’s no way anyone could have trained her to hunt vampires...besides me, of course, but I didn't even know that vampires _existed_ until about a week ago.”

Yuuri pressed his lips into a thin line. “There’s something unusual about this,” he said. “Unless Makkachin’s senses are heightened somehow…” He sighed. “I don't know, Viktor, I really don't know. How else would she be able to smell so well?”

“It’s not just smell,” Viktor told him. “She can _see,_ too.” When Yuuri’s face contorted into a confused expression, he explained, “Are vampires able to become invisible?”

“Well, yes. A few of us are. I’m not.”

“Is Phichit?”

Yuuri hesitated. “Yes.”

Viktor didn't know what he was doing, but, without thinking, he had grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders and started shaking him violently; he relented when he realized he was likely hurting the other. “He was invisible at one point, and she _saw_ him. I went looking for you and she stared at nothing and just…growled. I had no idea why, but now I do.”

“This is...incredible.” Yuuri placed his hands atop Viktor’s and peeled them off his shoulders, eyes wide. Then he shifted back a little. “Wait, _no.”_ He began to worry the hem of his shirt. “What if Makkachin were to get in the hands of a Hunter?” he asked, and that statement in itself was enough to chill Viktor’s blood. “You can’t tell anyone about her being special, Viktor.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “I won't. I told you already, I’m on your side in this one. You're not doing anyone harm, and so I’ll make sure nobody tries to harm you.”

“When you leave town, you have to make sure Makkachin does not into anyone dangerous,” Yuuri said. “And that isn't just limited to Hunters. Some vampires out there can be really bad, too. I would hate it if she got hurt.”

Viktor placed one of his hands on his forehead, taking a few slow, deep breaths and trying to recollect his sanity—or whatever bits of it he seemed to have left. It was one bomb dropped after another this week, wasn't it?

“Viktor. _Viktor.”_ Yuuri grasped one of his arms, the one attached to the hand that was rubbing his head. Viktor snapped back to attention. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to. I shouldn’t have said anything about Makkachin, oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you told me.” Viktor managed a smile; gradually, the tension that was visible in Yuuri’s form faded, all before he was releasing Viktor’s arm and putting some distance between them out of courtesy. “Now I at least know I need to keep an eye on her, and that's good. Ignorance isn't going to help either of us in this situation.”

Yuuri’s shoulders slumped. He sat down, right there on the floor, and buried his face in his hands. “I suppose,” he mumbled through his palms, though he didn't sound convinced. Noticing this, Viktor moved so that he was at the vampire’s side.

“Listen,” he said, “I know you're scared.” Yuuri didn't respond, but he could tell he wasn’t ignoring him. “I promise I won't let anything happen to you. We’re friends. We’re supposed to help each other out, right?”

“But I _can't_ help you out when you're going so far away,” Yuuri countered, lifting his head. “And you won't be able to help me, either. How are we going to communicate at such a distance?”

Viktor paused; but it was only momentary, because he was just as quickly pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and holding it up like some kind of sacrificial offering. “We can exchange numbers?” he suggested.

Yuuri sniffed. “Oh. Right. There’s that.” He pulled himself into a tight ball, his legs against his chest and his chin resting atop his knees. “But what if either of us was in a deadly situation? One can only take out a phone and dial a number so fast—”

“It’ll be fine,” Viktor replied, assuring him. “We’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be just fine. Alright?”

“Alright,” Yuuri said at last, taking out his own phone. They exchanged numbers, then he asked, “What about times zones? Those are always a factor. If one of us is in danger and the other is asleep—”

“Calm down. Chances are nothing is going to happen. Hunters haven't been in Hasetsu for over a hundred years and I can keep Makkachin from running off.” Viktor was trying to convince himself as well as Yuuri. “Do you need me to get you some water?”

Yuuri nodded. “Please,” he said, and Viktor got to his feet and retreated into the kitchen to retrieve the water. A few minutes later he came back with a glass full of the clear liquid and ice, which Yuuri took. “Thank you so much.”

Viktor sat down where he had been. “It’s no trouble.”

“No, _thank you.”_ Yuuri looked at him seriously.

It took a while for the meaning of those words to sink in fully. When they did, Viktor paused, not sure of what would be the best way to respond. And, once the words did manage to formulate themselves in his mind, he opened his mouth to say them; but was cut off by a knock on the door, loud and cruel.

Both he and Yuuri flinched, almost simultaneously. Viktor was the first to stand, offering a hand to help Yuuri to his feet. Then he was heading to the door, his hand on the knob. He pressed one side of his face to the surface, listening. “Who is it?” he asked.

“Christophe. Come on, you should know this by now, Viktor.”

Viktor twisted the knob, opening the door, and allowed him inside. Chris stepped in and placed his hands on his hips in a way that would be considered _sassy._ His green eyes traveled the room before landing on Yuuri.

“Sorry if I interrupted anything,” he said, “but I just wanted to say goodbye to Yuuri.” He grinned. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

Yuuri froze; and, if he was capable of doing so, Viktor was sure he would be blushing. “O-Oh, yes… _yes.”_ He smiled back, but his action was delayed, forced. “It was nice to know you, as well, Christophe.” Without waiting for a response, he turned away and stared at the ground instead.

“There’s no need to hide from me, _mon ami.”_

Chris was a huge flirt—there was no denying it. It wasn't an opinion, but a fact of life, something Viktor had grown accustomed to a long time ago. However, never once did Viktor expect Chris to be flirting with _Yuuri._ But, as he kept telling himself, this past week had come jam-packed with surprises.

Viktor didn't mind it. At least, he didn't _think_ he did. In fact, he found it rather endearing, the way Yuuri would respond to the flirting by placing a hand over his face, embarrassed, peeling his gaze away and looking at something else or jumping into a whole new topic of conversation entirely.

It had been one night—two days ago, Viktor believed—that Chris had turned to him when Yuuri had gone and smirked. “Do you think he’s starting to warm up to me?” he’d asked then, and Viktor had laughed, knowing it was going to take more than a few cheesy pick-up lines and flirtatious winks to impress someone.

Yuuri licked his lips and looked up at Viktor, staring at him in a way that read _‘Mind helping me out here?’_ Viktor responded with a shrug, and Yuuri inhaled deeply.

Eventually, after taking some time to supposedly keep his cool, Yuuri smiled over at Chris. “Who said I was hiding?” he said. His voice cracked a bit at the end, but it was enough to make Chris’s grin widen nonetheless.

 _“Mon Dieu,_ Yuuri,” Chris said softly, his voice practically a purr. He moved his arms to cross over his chest, one hand rested under his chin. “I wish you could come to Italy with us.”

An unreadable emotion crossed Yuuri’s face for a split instant, and he said, “Well, if you ever happen to stop by here again, you’re always free to take me out for a bite to eat.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Viktor smiled.

If only things could be like this all the time.

* * *

 

After the time spent at the hotel that morning with Christophe and Viktor, Yuuri bid them _adieu_ and went on his way. Though, for half of the way back to the part of town where he resided, he couldn't hide the smile that adorned his features.

Viktor wasn't going to be able to leave that night.

In spite of whatever the weather report Viktor saw had said, it was actually going to start snowing much earlier than anticipated. Yuuri’s way of sensing the oncoming weather had never failed him before and, as such, he knew it was going to start a little past two P.M. their time—and, by three P.M. it was going to be coming down hard.

Viktor’s flight was going to have to be canceled. He would be stuck in Hasetsu for a few more days. That meant Yuuri still had a few more days to mull things over, come up with a plan for what to do next. He couldn't just make a promise to Viktor and wind up not going through with it. The distance that was supposed to come between them would not help things.

 _Makkachin._ Viktor didn't understand just how dangerous she was—and, of course, it wasn't his fault, nor was it Makkachin’s, but Yuuri knew he needed to be there to help take care of her when Viktor couldn't. _How_ he was going to be there was the problem.

 _You could always leave town with Viktor,_ a small, rational part of his brain told him, but he shook the thought away. _No._ There had to be some other way. A better way. He couldn't leave, not after all that had happened here…

Could he?

His run turned into a fast jog as he considered this, then teetered off into a single walk. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, a tight frown tugging on his lips.

 _You can’t just let Makkachin get hurt. What if a Hunter were to get ahold of her?_ he asked himself.

 _Viktor said that she was going to be_ fine. _He’s managed to take of her for this long,_ another part of his mind argued.

_But he knows too much now. He knows that we exist. A Hunter would be able to get that information out of him, easy. You need to go with him and make sure he’s safe. Protect him, like you promised him you would._

_I’m not sure if I can._ Yuuri closed his eyes and leaned against whatever was closest to him—which just so happened to be a street lamp. He shivered as a cold wind passed by him. _I can't just leave Hasetsu._

_Sure you can. All you have to do is...leave._

And it was then that Yuuri jumped up, his eyes opening wide. He shivered a second time and searched the area, looking around for any sign of life. People—humans—were walking up and down the sidewalk, cars driving by on the street.

He was in the inhabited part of town. Right. _Lots_ of life was here.

But that voice—the rational one had been telling him to leave town in the internal argument he had been having with himself—wasn’t his own. That voice belonged to someone else.

Someone was in his head.

Only one person he knew could do that.

 _Anya,_ he thought, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. _Where are you? Tell me where you are._ His eyes kept searching the area, but she was still nowhere to be seen. He seethed. _If you're going to convince me to do something, at least do it face-to-face._

 _Making it seem like it was your own idea seemed like a good idea at the time,_ she replied his his mind, her voice a thoughtful hum. _Unfortunately, however, you seem to have caught on. Too bad._

 _Where_ are _you?_ Then another realization came to Yuuri. _How do you know about the promise I made to Viktor?_ A few people were giving him odd looks as they passed, probably thinking he was a crazy person. He was too distracted by Anya to notice, much less care.

“I’m surprised,” Anya said, and now her voice was coming from behind him. Yuuri swiveled around and there she was, in the flesh, her dark eyes filled with a playful type of amusement. “Not only did you choose to interact with humans, as I told you not to, but you allowed one to know of our existence. Please tell me, how else are you planning to fix this?”

“Viktor isn’t a Hunter,” Yuuri told her, “and he doesn't seem the type to give us away. I hardly consider an issue—”

“Of _course_ it’s an issue,” Anya snapped. “There’s a reason we make sure we’re kept secret, Yuuri. You know this. And so did the little friend you had before…” Here she smiled. “What was her name again? Minako?”

Yuuri glared at her. “You—”

“Silence.” Anya was no longer staring at Yuuri, her gaze fixated somewhere behind him. He turned and remembered; they were in a public place. People could hear them. “We need to continue this conversation in another place.”

Yuuri sulked but nodded anyway; in a flash Anya was gone, having gone on her way somewhere else. Fortunately, Yuuri knew where that somewhere was, and he followed her.

In no longer than a few seconds they arrived at their destination, an abandoned three-floor building in the part of town Yuuri and Phichit resided in. It had been set aflame a few decades back, so it was structurally unsound, ready to collapse at any given minute. Not only that, but it wasn't a looker, either—it had been a tannish color in its golden day, but now it was stained a darker, less visually pleasing color by mildew and old age.

Yuuri couldn't recall what the place had been built for in the first place, but he thought it had been some kind of business place. It was hard to remember a lot of small things with how time passed these days.

Wrapping his arms around his chest, he headed to the entrance. Anya was standing there waiting for him

Why she had such a fascination with this place Yuuri didn't know, nor did he bring himself to care. If anything, she could take the entire building and leave Hasetsu forever for all he cared.

“Now, now,” she tittered as he approached, a small smile on her lips, “is that any way to think of the person that allowed you to live?”

The worst part? She could read _minds._

Yuuri looked up at the building for a moment before fixing her with a glare. He was deathly afraid of her, and she knew this, but he still settled on trying not to show it. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied easily. “I’ve told you, Yuuri, time and time again; you need to _leave._ No vampires are allowed to exist here.”

“Why not? This is my _home.”_

Anya pushed some hair behind her ear, a move that was both graceful and beautiful. And threatening. Very threatening. “Hunters could still be around. They mustn't know there are any of us left. If they did, we’d all be dead.”

“There _are_ no Hunters here!” Yuuri said, waving his arms around the empty area for emphasis. _“I’d_ be dead if there were. And so would Phichit.”

Anya pressed her lips into a thin line. Then, “Your friend’s dog.”

Yuuri tensed more—if that was even possible at this point, taking into consideration he was already _very_ tense—his shoulders pushing up and squaring. Instinctively, he took a small step away from the other vampire. “Makkachin? You’re talking about Viktor’s poodle, right?”

“What other dog would I be talking about?” Anya asked him impatiently, then sighed. “Yes, ‘Viktor’s poodle,’” she said, using air quotes. She offered Yuuri a small smile, but he didn't return it. “You’ve messed things up enough as it is, _but,_ since I'm so lenient, I’ll allow you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“And how would I do that?” Yuuri asked carefully, his eyes following her as she turned on her heels and began to walk away from him. Taking the hint to follow, he did, matching her steps.

“Simply do what I told you to do. Go to Italy or what-have-you with Viktor. Make sure Makkachin doesn't leave your sight.”

Yuuri’s mouth hung open a moment before he managed to reply, “I told you I don—”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Anya’s smile spread wide and she laughed, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Her gaze fell upon his, the glint in her dark eyes holding not a promise, but a threat. “I would _hate_ it if something were to happen to Viktor.”

It took Yuuri a bit of time to digest that statement.

“You wouldn't,” he said at last.

“I would. And I _will,_ if you don't comply.”

Yuuri was sure if there was blood flowing through his body, all of it would be draining from his face and down to his toes. Anya had laid down her ace card. It was either leave Hasetsu, or the swift coming of Viktor’s death. Yuuri had been put in a situation much like this one before, and he didn't need any of that guilt on his conscious.

Suddenly, he wished that Anya had decided to let him die all those years ago. Why she had even allowed him a second chance at life, he didn't know. There were a lot of things Anya did that he didn't understand; and that, undoubtedly, was the single most terrifying thing about her.

 _Minako,_ he thought. He stopped walking, his feet placed firmly in the spot he was standing. He buried his hands in his hair and lowered his head, screwing his eyes shut. He knew Anya was watching him, reading his thoughts, but he didn't want to have to worry about that right now.

 _Minako,_ he reiterated in his head, on the verge of tears but somehow holding them back. _I’m so sorry you shouldn't have died I should have been a better friend, I should have tried harder, I should have, I should have, I should have…_

“But you failed,” Anya told him. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to see that her usual confident smile was gone, replaced with a frown. “That was a long time ago. Don't you think you’ve learned from your mistake by now?” She sighed. “Yuuri, _this_ is why people aren't supposed to know we exist.”

“Viktor probably would have found out about us, anyway,” Yuuri said desperately. “As you know, Makkachin can sniff us out better than most humans can. She would have found one of us one day and he would have seen and—”

“Excuses.” Anya’s smile returned, and she pressed the palms of her hands together, leaning towards his slightly. “Someone is going to have to take the blame for this. I can't just allow a human’s finding out about us to go unpunished. Sadly, _you're_ the one that was found out. And, as your punishment, I command you to leave town and go to Hasetsu with Viktor.”

Yuuri stammered, “Y-you can’t...I just c-can’t. I can't—”

“If you value the lives of your friend and his pet poodle,” Anya warned him, her tone quite serious, “I think you can. Listen, I like you, Yuuri. I hate seeing you hurt. But action cannot go without consequence. You do understand why I have to do this, right?”

Yuuri didn't reply, and she continued, “If it was up to anyone else, they would simply kill Viktor and Makkachin. But I'm giving you an out. I suggest you take my kind offer while you can...before I change my mind.”

“Fine,” Yuuri said at last, not really thinking about what he was saying or how huge the thing he was agreeing to was, “I’ll go with Viktor to Italy. However,” he added, and this earned a curious glance from his superior, “Phichit has to come with me, too. I’m not going anywhere without him. And none of this was his fault. Don't punish him.”

“I know it isn't Phichit’s fault,” Anya said. “It’s yours.” Yuuri jumped at that, but didn't otherwise react. “And as for allowing him to go with you, I’ll submit. As long as I get positive results from you, I don't care what you do.”

“T-thank you.” Yuuri let out a breath of relief, staring down at the concrete for a long moment, glad it was settled; but still nervous at the fact he had to leave Hasetsu for the first time in over a hundred years.

When he lifted his head Anya was nowhere to be seen, and he allowed the tension to leave his body. He almost collapsed from exhaustion but maintained his composure, dragging his feet along the concrete as he continued to walk.

There was a lot to talk to Phichit about.

He hat just been crossing a corner when there was a vibration coming from his pocket. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, seeing a notification for a text, he clicked on it and opened a thread.

It was a text from Viktor.

**[Viktor]**

_'My flight to Italy was cancelled. Apparently it’s supposed to start snowing earlier than we thought, so I guess I’m going to be stuck in town for a few more days.'_

Yuuri had just finished reading it when another text came up, startling him.

**[Viktor]**

_'Not that that’s a bad thing, of course._

_By the way, Chris forgot to give you his number earlier. I think he’s going to give it to you the next time you see him.'_

Yuuri stared at the texts a moment, reading them over and over and over until the words were practically implanted in his brain. _Not that that’s a bad thing, of course._

Apparently Christophe wasn’t the only one trying to flirt with him.

* * *

 

Loud music spilling out of blaring speaker accompanied by the screaming of partygoers dancing on the dance floor were the only sounds that Sara could hear, and probably would be stuck hearing for the rest of her life. Michele had come over and said something to her earlier, but all she saw were his lips moving. She didn’t catch any of the actual words.

Becoming a club owner, not that she thought back on it, hadn’t been the best idea she’d ever come up with; but she wasn’t going to tell her brother that and give him the benefit of the doubt.

She was lounging on a leather sofa in the VIP area, rubbing her forehead and trying to listen to her own thoughts, to no avail. She couldn’t hear _anything_ over this damn music.

But that was fine. That was completely fine. It was fantastic.

She sighed.

A few guys—relatively attractive guys she had allowed to become VIPs in her club—had come over to her sometime not long ago, running their hands down her arms and whispering sweet nothings in her ears, attempting to get cheap sex. She ignored them, for the most part; and she would have gotten rid of them herself, if it wasn’t for Michele barging in and yelling things at them until they left. Then that was when he had told her...well, whatever it was he had said. From the expression on his face, Sara could tell it was most likely something important.

She’d have to ask him about it later, she decided, leaning back on the sofa, throwing out her arms on either side of herself, her lips pulled into a tight frown.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been that way, or when she had drifted off, until the door was opening and Michele was entering again—though this time he wasn’t alone.

Sara’s eyes shot open and she was suddenly awake, standing up. The black fur coat she was wearing hung from her elbows loosely, swaying as she moved. The figure entering behind Michele gave her a sickly sweet smile, and she bowed formally, doing it the male way due to her lack of a skirt or dress to curtsy with.

“Miss Anya,” she whispered as she looked back up at the figure in question.

 _Anya._ Whom’s lips were red as ever, the color of blood. Sara knew her well enough to understand why they were that color in the first place.

“I told you she was coming,” Michele told his sister. “Weren’t you listening.”

“I didn’t hear you,” Sara replied weakly. Anya watched their exchange with a mild amount of amusement in her eyes. Eventually, Sara turned back towards her. “I’m sorry, Miss Anya.”

Anya folded her gloved hands together and held them to her face, obviously in an attempt to hide her widening smile. “It’s quite alright. I’m simply pleased to hear that you’ve done what I instructed you to do, so I decided to come over and thank you personally.”

“Yes,” Sara said, swallowing any hesitation in her voice. She noticed Michele staring at her, but she chose to ignore him for now. “I have sponsored Viktor Nikiforov like you asked me to. I heard he isn’t scheduled to arrive for another few days, however.”

“That’s because of inclement weather,” Anya said dismissively, waving a hand. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

Michele, who was still leaning against the door, finally spoke, his voice soft yet confident. “May I ask _why_ we are sponsoring him? With all due respect, Miss Anya, I don’t see why we would want to waste time on a _human.”_

This caused Anya to bristle. One of her feet tapped against the ground impatiently. “My motives are of no concern to you. What I need you to do when he arrives with his entourage,” she continued, as if she hadn’t been questioned, “is to mess with them. Make them have a bad day. Wet their fur, if you will,” she finished, causing Michele to bristle.

“Why, though? Does this human have something you want?” Sara asked, giving her brother a warning look. She hoped he didn’t do something else to irk Anya. They were on the vampire’s bad side enough as it was.

“You could say that,” Anya replied cryptically. Then she moved her hands to fold behind her back instead, turning to leave. “Thank you _so much_ for you help, Crispinos,” she said. “I will make sure you are rewarded for your assistance.” Sara blinked, and she was gone.

Michele ran a hand through his hair. “I _really_ hate working for her,” he said.

“So do I, but we don’t have a choice.” And, as Michele left, too, Sara’s already-existing frown deepened; fear of something going wrong with whatever Anya was planning crept up her spine much like any premonition would. She moved to sit back down on the sofa, holding her fur coat a little tighter and closing her eyes, falling deep into her own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added stuff to the story summary. ;)
> 
> I dunno, I don't feel like Anya is _evil,_ in a sense, because she's just trying to protect her kind. But, yes, I do admit that her plan (we'll learn more about it later) is NOT going about things the right way.
> 
> Ayyy we'll see how the twins play into this.


	7. Neighbor of Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan of action needed to be put in motion—and Viktor was going to make sure it would be.

Viktor spent most of the night pacing frantically in his hotel room. Yuuri watched him as he did, his eyes following each and every movement, flicking back and forth like a grandfather clock.

For the most part, Viktor didn't mind his being there; however, after a while, he cracked, grabbing hair in either one of his hands and tugging. Hard enough to feel the pain, but not hard enough to cause any terrible damage. Yuuri still stared at him, not speaking. And it was driving Viktor insane, to say the least. Reaching out, he grabbed Yuuri’s shoulders and began to shake him a bit.

“You can’t just _not_ say anything,” he reasoned. Yuuri blinked. Sighing, he released the vampire and resumed his pacing from one corner of the room to the other, letting go of his hair so he could start to run his hands through it instead. “I mean, there’s Makkachin we need to worry about. We can’t just let her get hurt, Yuuri!” He stopped again to turn on Yuuri.

No response.

“Are you even listening to me?” Viktor asked, though there wasn't any real heat behind his words. He was just a little confused, was all. And worried. He might have been a little worried about a few things. But who wouldn’t be, when their _poodle_ turned out to be a possible mass weapon against vampire kind?

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek, like he wanted to say something but was stopping himself. Viktor let out a breath and sat down on the edge of his bed, placing his hands on his lap. “You _are_ going to help me out, right? We have a few extra days to figure things out now.”

For the first time that night Yuuri spoke; and it relieved Viktor, even if the words he said weren't exactly expected...or, at least, helpful.

“It doesn't normally snow this late in the year,” he whispered.

Viktor listed his head. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri replied. His gaze peeled away from Viktor’s, looking past him, out the window. The snow was coming down hard. “I don't know and that's the problem. I think it might be bad?” he offered.

“That’s not very reassuring,” Viktor told him, somehow managing to keep his voice even. He brushed a few locks out of his face as Yuuri swiveled around to face him, eyes wide. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, a little on edge.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Yuuri said. Based on his expression, the way he wrung his hands together nervously, and the fact that he was shaking, Viktor could only assume that _something_ had to be serious. So he nodded and Yuuri continued, “Listen, when you go to Italy… Is there a way you can arrange for me and Phichit to come along, too?”

Not _that_ was not what Viktor had been expecting. He frowned. “I thought you said that you didn't like the idea of leaving—”

“I don’t,” Yuuri cut in, not allowing him to finish. “But I need to. It’s, uh…” He cleared his throat and straightened a bit. “It’s the best way to make sure you stay safe. I did promise I would do my best to protect, after all. And going with you would be the best I can do.”

“You don't really have to do something you don't want to for me…”

Yuuri’s eyes flashed. “Yes, I do,” he said, very seriously; but there was a sort of hesitation in his voice, like there was something else he wasn't saying. Something that he wasn't telling Viktor.

Viktor would have tried to ask what it was, but didn't on account he was too tired to and that Yuuri probably wouldn't have told him even if he _did_ ask.

He nodded and rested his chin on the back of one hand. “Sure. I’ll call my manager and see if we can add two more plane tickets to the mix. But I doubt it, because it’s a tad late. The flight is leaving only a few days from now and I'm sure it’s already packed.”

“Thank you.” Yuuri sighed. “To think, I should be the one helping _you.”_ He turned away and began to toy with a few of the items resting atop the bedside dresser. Viktor didn't stop him.

“Even if my manager doesn't agree to the plane ticket thing,” Viktor said after a moment, wanting to bring an end to the silence that had grown between them, “I’ll try to get them for you. Money shouldn't be much of a problem on my front.”

Yuuri snorted. “Money was never a problem for my family, either,” he whispered, seemingly to himself. He picked up a bottle of hairspray and began to examine the label. Nervousness rolled off him in waves. “Who’s this manager person you keep talking about, anyway? Are they your boss? Are they the one telling you where to go all the time?”

Viktor used his free hand (the one not supporting his chin) to make a _sort of_ gesture. “In a way, he _is_ my boss. He’s the one who helped me kick off my career in the first place.” _Even if I didn't exactly want my career,_ he added on mentally, deciding not to say it out loud.

“Oh.” Yuuri furrowed his brows and put down the hairspray. He placed his hands palms down on the dresser, his fingers curling up slightly and digging into the unforgiving wood. “What’s his name?”

“Yakov,” Viktor replied.

Yuuri lowered his head, locks of black hair falling in his face. Viktor couldn't help but stare at him for a moment. “Okay, and how did your career kick off?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I’ll try to give you the short version, at least.” Viktor rolled over so he was lying down on on the bed, the back of his head resting on the pillow cozily. “In St. Petersburg—where I’m from—they were having a photo shoot for some kid model I can't remember the name of at the moment. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. One of the photographers turned and saw me and started taking pictures. Then Yakov saw me and offered to make me rich.”

“That _is_ rather short,” Yuuri mumbled. “Why did you take the offer?”

Viktor shrugged. “It’s just what felt right at the time,” he replied honestly.

“You don't consider it a right decision now?”

"No.” Viktor shook his head. “If I could take it back, I would. I mean, the traveling is nice, but…” His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. “It gets pretty overwhelming after a while. Plus it’s hard to go out and grab a bite to eat without people practically assaulting you for an autograph or a picture. Not to mention that I haven't seen my family in what feels likes forever…”

“Yeah…” Yuuri sounded sad, thoughtful, and Viktor sat upright.

“No, no, I didn't mean it like _that,”_ he said. Yuuri didn't respond. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I know you haven't seen your family for a long time. A _really_ long time. I shouldn't have said anything. I was being insensitive.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s fine. _I_ don't think you're being insensitive. It’s… It’s hard sometimes. And making friends—friends like _you,_ that are so amazing and nice and supportive—is hard because I know that, one day, you’ll…” He trailed off.

Viktor knew what he was going to say. _Die._ One day he was going to die, and Yuuri was not. He’d just be wandering on, not wanting to meet anyone else because he’d wind up losing them, too; but he’d make friends with someone else, anyway, because people were just too kind and the loneliness would be unbearable...

Viktor’s heart clenched. That sounded like the worst feeling in the world.

“We don't have to talk about this is you don't want to,” he whispered.

Yuuri wiped his face, which made Viktor realize he had been crying. “Sorry,” he said. “I get a little emotional sometimes. I ruined the story you were trying to tell. This is my bad.”

“You really need to stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“Why? There’s no one else to blame for what happened to me.” Yuuri took off his glasses and began to wipe the lenses on his shirt. They’d probably fogged up from when he’d been crying. “You’d think I’d learn from my mistakes by now, I suppose,” he added as he placed his glasses back on his face.

Viktor frowned. Again, he had that feeling that there was something Yuuri wasn’t telling him. There was no way that Yuuri could just...look down on himself so much, right? There must have been some kind of outside force, someone telling Yuuri that he was useless. Someone that was making Yuuri feel so bad about his life, because, in Viktor’s opinion, Yuuri was an amazing person and he should not feel bad about events in the past.

But, then again, Yuuri was a vampire because of whatever had happened who-knows-how-long ago. Not to mention that Viktor did, in fact, have no idea what actually happened in the first place. He had a few theories, but he didn’t want to ask about it or pry for details because Yuuri’s life story was none of his business. Yuuri had his right to privacy and Viktor respected that.

Still, he hope that maybe, one day, Yuuri would talk to him about it. Viktor wouldn’t mind having to listen to him vent if it would help him in the long run.

These thoughts and more made Viktor shake his head. No, he was being ridiculous. He and Yuuri were friends, sure, but they weren’t close. They barely knew anything about each other. They were practically strangers. If Yuuri _did_ happen to tell Viktor such sensitive information, Viktor would honestly be surprised. Practical strangers didn’t really tend to trust each other with their deep life stories, after all.

Viktor hadn’t realized he’d been spacing out a bit until he heard Yuuri say his name. Brushing fingers through a few of his stray locks of hair, he released a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding and said, “Sorry, sorry.” He turned his head slightly to one side to glance at Yuuri, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “I’ve had a lot on my plate lately.”

Yuuri nodded. “You and me both.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Yuuri resuming his play with the items strewn across the surface of Viktor’s bedside dresser and Viktor resting his arms behind his head, falling back into his thoughts. Viktor looked over at Yuuri on more than one occasion, hoping the vampire would say something first; but, when it became apparent to him that wasn’t going to happen, he pressed his lips into a thin line and tried to think of his own lines instead.

Finally, he settled on a question. One he felt was very important. “You’re not just coming to Italy with me because your promised me your protection, right?” Yuuri hesitated, and he continued, “There’s another reason why you’re coming along, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Yuuri replied after a long time. “There _is_ another reason.” He silenced, his lips twitching like he wanted to continue, like he wanted to tell Viktor exactly what that something was, but at the end of another pause all he added on was, “I’m not allowed to tell you about it.”

“It has to do with your superiors, right? The ones you told me about that you might get in trouble with for me finding out about you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri reiterated. “I...I did get in trouble.” He rubbed his forehead. “But not too bad. At least, I don’t think. I just have to be careful about how I proceed from here on out and I should be fine. Probably. It’s kind of hard to find out what she’s thinking sometimes,” he whispered at the end. Viktor heard, but figured that last part wasn’t supposed to be meant for him. “I’ll be fine, though. You shouldn’t worry too much about me.”

Viktor was worrying. Very much.

“Anyway, where’s Christophe?” Yuuri asked, seemingly out of nowhere. Viktor knew he was just trying to change the conversation. “You told me he wanted to get my number…” As if for emphasis, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and started waving it around a little. “I figured out how texting works. It’s actually really fun.”

Smiling, Viktor sat up, supporting his weight on his elbows. “I can give you his number now, if you want. I’m sure he would appreciate a text right about now. The snow is preventing him from going out to the bars.”

After Viktor had given Yuuri the information, Yuuri typed on his phone a moment, squinting, before he put it in sleep and placed it on the dresser. Not a second after his phone vibrated and he jumped. Viktor stifled a laugh as he checked the response.

“Looks like we’re getting another visit from your friend,” Yuuri commented as he put the phone down again, seeming overwhelmed. Viktor could see why technology would baffle him.

“He’s coming over?”

“He said he is.” Yuuri walked over to the room door and opened it. He poked his head out into the hallway, as if expecting Chris to show up at any second. Viktor held back a smile at his antsyness. “How long do you think it’s going to take him? Humans are really slow…”

Viktor got out of bed and took a hair tie off his dresser so he could wrap up his hair into something a little more manageable; he settled on a simple ponytail and headed for the door, placing a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. The vampire spun around in surprise.

“S-sorry,” Yuuri stammered, running a hand over his face. “I just...I guess I know how it feels now, huh?” He laughed uncertainly. “You know, after all those times I scared you…”

“No, it’s my bad.” Viktor smiled. “With what you were talking about, Hunters being everywhere. You have the right to be at least a little paranoid.”

Yuuri shrank away from him. “Yeah, I suppose.” Then his expression shifted. He opened his mouth, obviously trying to tell Viktor something, but all that wound up coming out was, “Speaking of Hunters…,” before the room’s door was being slammed open the rest of the way. Yuuri yelped.

“Oops.” Chris laughed, closing the door lightly once he was inside. “I ran over here as fast as I could. I wanted to see an _angel,”_ he added, his gaze flitting over to Yuuri.

One of Yuuri’s hands were pressed over his face. A small sound escaped the parting between his fingers, and Viktor could vaguely make it out as a snicker. Viktor knew it because Yuuri was, most certainly, _not_ an angel. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Yuuri lowered his hand from his face, he and Viktor exchanging a quick, knowing glance before he said, “It’s nice to see you, too, Christophe. I’m glad you were able to stay in town for a few more days.” By the tone of his voice, it sounded like he meant it.

“Too bad we can’t go out for dinner, though,” Chris said sadly, leaning against the closed door and crossing his arms over his chest. “If it wasn’t for the snow and what-have-you, I would totally treat you to a nice meal. _Dommage, je suppose.”_

Yuuri smiled. “We could always have a meal here.” As he said this, he looked over at Viktor, asking.

Viktor worried a strand of hair as he thought, though he already had made up his mind about the matter. It was weird, how unimportant he felt acting as a third wheel to his best friend and his vampire friend. It made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like, and it was new. He didn’t like it. And for a second he considered pulling Yuuri aside and telling him this, but he refrained. Maybe the reason he felt like that about this was because Chris was unaware of what Yuuri was and Viktor didn’t want him to get hurt due to it.

Speaking of which, Viktor hadn’t told Chris about Yuuri and Phichit tagging along with them to Italy. He could feel that Yuuri was still staring at him; thinking the exact same thing, most likely.

They nodded at each other briefly, making a wordless agreement. _Obviously we have to tell him you’re coming along, but we can’t tell him that you’re a vampire. At least, not yet._

“Remember when you said that you were sad about me not being able to go with you to Italy?” Yuuri asked, his attention now focused on Chris.

Chris nodded. “Yeah, what about it?” He sounded confused, his face matching the tone of the question. His brows were furrowed.

“Well”—Yuuri and Viktor exchanged another quick glance—“I am actually going to be able to tag along now. Viktor’s going to help me plan it out.”

This was met with a long, painstaking silence via Chris. He pressed the palms of his hands together as he seemed to process what was being told to him. Then, out of nowhere, he lunged forward, his arms wrapping around Yuuri in a tight embrace. Yuuri let out a squeak of surprise, but wrapped his arms around Chris in an attempt to return the hug.

“Having you around is going to be _wonderful,”_ Chris said, pulling away with a wide grin on his face. “Do you think there are any good places to eat in Italy? Wait, no, that’s a dumb question.” He shook his head. “This is _Italy_ we’re talking about. Of _course_ there are good places to eat.”

Yuuri rubbed his forehead, probably still in shock over the hug. “I mean, there are good places to eat here, too, you know.” He hesitated. “Well, I mean...I guess there _used_ to be.”

Viktor decided to pipe in, no longer wanting to stand on the sidelines in this exchange. “Places like where?” he asked.

“Are there any foods you could recommend?” Chris put in. “I’ll have to remember in the case that we get the opportunity we get to come back here.”

Yuuri smiled, looking between the each of them in turn. “You could always try some katsudon.”

“Katsudon?” Viktor and Chris said in unison. “What’s that?”

Rubbing his hands together, Yuuri replied, “If there are enough ingredients in here to work with, I could show you. My mother taught me how to make the greatest katsudon in the world.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, Yuuri was right in saying that katsudon was amazing. Somehow Yuuri managed to gather enough of what he needed to make it, sending Chris and Viktor out of the kitchen so he could work and telling them not to come back until he was done.

Personally, Viktor was a tad concerned at the prospect of a vampire dealing with modern advancements such as _stoves_ and _ovens,_ but brushed it aside on the fact that Yuuri wouldn't be so confident if he didn't know what he was doing.

He made idle conversation with Christophe as they waited for the food to be finished; but, long before it actually was, they could smell the flavorful aroma wafting in from the kitchen. Promptly, Chris’s mouth watered and he told Viktor that having a husband that could cook would be the greatest thing in the world. Viktor barely heard, though, because his stomach was rumbling. He hadn't realized how hungry he was before then.

More time passed and finally Yuuri poked his head into the room and called them in. Chris was the first to jump up, striding into the kitchen. Viktor followed him inside.

Two plates were sitting on the table, on opposite sides. Chris was already sitting in front of one, putting a napkin down on his lap and lifting up his utensil. “Oh, Yuuri, it looks _divin._ What is it?”

Yuuri gestured to Viktor, silently telling him to sit down, as well, as he explained, “It’s a bowl of rice, basically, that’s topped with pork cutlet, egg, vegetables, and anything else people might want. For this one, specifically, I used soy sauce, sugar, mirin, and a bit of sake. I also sprinkled some sliced nori on top.”  He eyed Viktor, who was sitting down and taking his first bite. “Uhm, I hope it’s good. I haven’t had the chance to make any in awhile.”

Viktor let out a hum of content upon the taste hitting his tongue, his eyes sliding shut. Chris seemed to have made a similar sound, and he when he opened his eyes again, he noticed Yuuri staring at him with a flustered expression. He wasn’t blushing, of course, because there was no flowing blood in his body, but it looked as if he might be if it was possible.

“This is the most amazing thing I have ever tasted,” Chris said, having the first word. Viktor nodded in agreement, though his grip tightened on his chopsticks for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

Yuuri’s face softened. He rested a hand on one side of his face and sighed. “Oh, that’s good,” he said. “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“Why didn’t you make any for yourself?” Chris asked after a few minutes of him and Viktor eating. He raised his brows. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Uhhh…” Yuuri glanced at Viktor and wrung his hands together, requesting a bit of help. But Viktor had no idea what to say, eating coming to a halt. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Yuuri finally managed to stammer on, “Well, I, uh, I...I ate prior to coming here, so I’m fine. Besides, there wasn’t too much in here too work with, anyway.”

Viktor knew well enough that Yuuri didn’t eat, taking into consideration he was immortal and somehow managed to walk around and act like any living person—minus the whole drinking platelets to survive thing—in spite of the fact of having died was kind of a anomaly all on its own. Briefly, the thought of how vampire were even able to exist in the first place crossed his mind. But he ignored it. He was pretty sure logic was the least of his problems.

Then another thought crossed Viktor’s mind, as he looked back down at the katsudon Yuuri had made for him. There was _no way_ there was enough ingredients just _happening_ to lie around that Yuuri was able to work with to make this. And, he figured, upon reaching a conclusion, that just might have been the reason Yuuri had kicked him and Chris out of the kitchen to work in the first place.

Maybe there were a few things Viktor needed to talk to Yuuri about once Chris left. Possibly more than a few things. Viktor’s hands quivered as he lowered his chopsticks to pick up more of his food.

* * *

 

It took a while until Christophe finally left, sometime later that night when he said he would go and get some hotel dinner and then be right back. Of course, Viktor knew the “be right back” part _actually_ constituted as “eh, see you tomorrow,” so once Chris was out the door he closed it and locked it, all before turning on his heels to face Yuuri, who was worrying his bottom lip and staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t like keeping secrets from my friends,” Viktor told him, beginning to cross the room towards him. “It’s not fair. But...I also know that I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone else, either, so…” He let out a breath through his nose. “Are they ever going to find out at all.”

Yuuri smiled at his apologetically. “I’m afraid they might not,” he said. “At least, not if I can help it. And I’m sorry it hurts you, but”—his voice grew on a darker sort of octave—“it’s dangerous to know these things, as dumb as that might sound. The reason I decided to protect you is _because_ of how dangerous it is. I just...it’s bad enough that I have your life in my hands now.” He looked down at his hands as if he meant that in a literal sense. “I don’t want anyone else to wind up getting hurt because of me.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Yuuri.”

“Yes, I know,” Yuuri replied, “but it isn’t quite as simple as that. I mean, there are vampires like me and Phichit, and we’re nice, but…” He trailed off and gnawed on his bottom lip, thinking, before he released it and continued. “Others...they’re _not_ so nice. They wouldn’t hesitate at the opportunity of fresh blood, and that’s only one possible problem. Hunters would do anything to get at us. Including hurting other humans. Including _you.”_ He looked at Viktor very seriously. “I’m not going to let you get hurt. I’m not going to let anyone get hurt ever again.”

Viktor offered him a smile. “As much as you’d like to think it is,” he said, “it’s not up to you whether people get hurt or not. Things happen. You know, how like Makkachin just so happened to find you.” He placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezed in an attempt to be reassuring, though Yuuri didn’t look too reassured. “That’s not your fault, either, and your superiors are dumb if they think it is.”

Yuuri peeled out of his grasp, head shaking. “It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault or not,” he said. “If they _think_ it’s my fault, then it’s my fault. I’m going to have to pay the price for it and that’s it. It doesn’t matter what’s fair or the circumstances in which this all came to be. What’s done is done. I’m just sorry I had to drag you into this. If I could, I would try to find a way to help you out of it.”

“I don’t mind it, really. I’m just glad you’re my friend.”

Yuuri smiled. “I’m glad your friend, too. Besides Phichit, there hasn’t been anyone around for me to talk to.” He stared down at the ground and shifted from foot to foot. “Um, in spite of being forced to go to Italy with you...I’m, uh, I’m really glad that we’re going to be able to work together.”

“Hmm.” Viktor hummed a moment, knowing he had wanted to say something in regards to that before, but he had forgotten about it in the moment. Then it came to him, and he asked, “What exactly does it entail, though, us working together? You said you would help make sure Makkachin doesn’t run off and that I don’t get hurt, but... _how?”_

“If it comes to, I’m going to have to do anything I can to protect you and Makkachin.” Yuuri’s voice was solemn as he spoke, dutiful.

It took a few seconds for the meaning of those words to sink in. Viktor’s face fell, fast. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and his blood froze. He leaned forward slightly, just enough so Yuuri would know he was being serious. “You don’t...you’re not putting your life on the line for me,” he said.

“Don’t be like that, Viktor,” Yuuri countered. “This is what I’m supposed to do. I promised I would protect you.”

“Well, don’t,” Viktor said. “Not if you’re going to wind up getting hurt. You keep saying how you don’t want anyone to get hurt because of you, but how do you think _I_ would feel if _you_ got hurt because of _me?_ Trying to protect me? You really...I appreciate that you want to help, but no. I’m not letting you risk yourself for my sake. I’m not even sure what the significance of me surviving is to you.”

“This significance of you surviving,” Yuuri said, slowly, as if he was trying to explain something to a child, “is that there would be a good person in the world. And that good person is _you.”_ He let out a breath. “Listen, Viktor, I’m not doing this because I feel like I owe you something—which, technically speaking, I _do,_ because you’ve been nothing but nice to me—”

Viktor frowned. “Yuuri—”

“My point _being,”_ Yuuri interrupted, “that I’m doing this because you’re a good friend. I mean, it sounds dumb if you think about me. Me sticking my neck out for someone I haven’t even known for a week...but you’re...there’s something different about you, and I don’t quite know what it is. And I feel like that, if you die because of me, I won’t be able to find out what that thing is. That’s why I promised to protect you. And that’s why I’m _going_ to protect you.”

“In that case, I’m going to protect you, too.”

“Viktor, please.”

Viktor shook his head. “I don’t know much about you, either,” he said, “and, yes, I may or may not still be having a difficult time processing all this vampire business, but I understand enough. You had some hard times in the past and now you’re immortal and you’re paying for it.” Yuuri’s face went passive, which he took as a cue to press on. He walked forward as he continued, stopping only when he was standing directly in front of Yuuri. “But mistakes are in the past. You can move on. You don’t have to put yourself in danger because you don’t want to lose anyone else. I’m not hopeless. I can take care of myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Yuuri said at last, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His eyes were wide with panic. “Please understand that this is much, much worse than, say, someone trying to rob you on the street. We’re talking about people that will torture you and kill you, people that are _trained_ to torture you and kill you! You can’t...how would you know how to handle yourself in a situation like that?”

Viktor thought. And thought, and thought, and thought.

He certainly did _not_ want Yuuri to be his savior in every instance, saving his life time and time again… And this wasn’t because he wanted to be a hero, but because he was scared Yuuri might be seriously injured in the process, which was the last thing he wanted. Yuuri was immortal, but he could still die.

Viktor didn’t want him to die. It was the last thing he wanted, in fact.

An idea came to him.

“Well,” he said, carefully, _“you_ know how to handle yourself in a situation like that, right?”

Yuuri’s hands unclenched, hanging limp. He backed up a little and looked at Viktor with a puzzled expression, examining him like he was trying to see what he was thinking. “What...what do you mean?” The panic in his form lessened, but only slightly; the edge went away but the caution remained.

“Would you, possibly, be able to teach _me_ how to handle myself in such a situation?” Yuuri opened his mouth speak, but Viktor cut him off with, “You’re not going to be able to be everywhere at once. What if something happens and I’m in trouble? What if you can’t make it in time? How would I be able to survive in a scenario like that?”

“I…” Yuuri paused. “I...I can see what you mean,” he whispered. Then he shook his head, brushing thoughts that Viktor couldn’t read to the side. “But I have no idea where to start? Do you just want to know self-defense, how to handle yourself in order to give me some time to arrive? Or do you want to...don’t tell me you want to fight,” he blurted.

Viktor shrugged. “Fighting would seem like the best thing to learn,” he said. “In the case that you might be in trouble, too—which, yes, I know, would be quite unlikely—I want to be able to fight off Hunters or other vampires on my own. Besides, it would mean you have one more fighter on your side. That’s a good thing, right?"

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what exactly would constitute as ‘my side,’ but, yeah, alright.” He began to rub one of his wrists. “We...Uh, there aren’t any Hunters or anything out here in Hasetsu, so maybe we could start our training before we head out. It would be better to start as soon as possible.” He glanced out the window then, looking out at the snow that was coming down hard. “I wish the weather was in our favor, though.”

Viktor looked across the room at his jacket, which was sitting on the on the dresser near the television. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“It doesn’t need to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you look to your right, you'll see a Yuuri in his natural habitat, protecting his Viktor. What a beautiful sight, wow.
> 
> This chapter is shorter solely for the reason that, starting next chapter, this first arc of the story really starts to kick off. Get ready for that. ;)
> 
> See you guys then!


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